


Lost

by LilLayneeLoo



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Author Needs a Hug too actually, Bruce Wayne Needs a Hug, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Clark Kent Needs a Hug, Clark Kent is a Good Parent too damnit, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Good Parent Alfred Pennyworth, Hurt/Comfort, I've never written it before so bear with me, M/M, Mpreg, Protective Alfred Pennyworth, Protective Bruce Wayne, Protective Clark Kent, seriously though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:28:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 27,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24104434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilLayneeLoo/pseuds/LilLayneeLoo
Summary: Clark and Bruce have a baby, but things go very wrong, very quickly.Disclaimer: I've never written an Mpreg before, so this was new and interesting to try. Please leave me some feedback if you have any suggestions/comments. Thank you!
Relationships: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 48
Kudos: 259





	1. Welcome to the World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce gives birth to his and Clark's son.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, as I said, I've never written this before. Usually I don't request feedback, but I actually found this interesting to write and would love to hear if anyone has any comments or suggestions.
> 
> Also, by the way, I just kind of said fuck it, and we're going to pretend that this is taking place in a universe where male pregnancy is rare, but also relatively normal.
> 
> That is all thanks bye

It had been _hours_ since Bruce’s first contraction. At the time, he hadn’t really recognized what the cause of the pain was, misattributing it to powerful kicks from his half-Kryptonian child. As the night progressed, however, Bruce quickly came to understand that he was definitely in labor.

He hadn’t wanted to call anyone right away, preferring to labor alone with his husband and Alfred, but Clark had panicked after a particularly strong contraction that had dragged a guttural moan out of Bruce, and immediately dialed Leslie’s number.

Leslie had been with them throughout Bruce’s pregnancy, as she had been since Batman began his career. She had been a great source of comfort to Bruce, but even more so to Clark, who was especially concerned by his alien biology.

Clark and Leslie had taken several trips North without Bruce, Clark allowing her access to the fortress’ database to try and establish a sort of timeline for Bruce’s pregnancy. It had been extraordinarily helpful, boasting a collection of information about not only the gestation period for a Kryptonian child, but what was considered healthy for the baby’s size and development at each stage throughout the pregnancy. 

They were also able to identify, based on what information the fortress could convey, the various complications that could arise given Bruce’s arguably fragile human body.

They had carefully informed Bruce early on of the dangers, questioning whether or not he wanted to continue with his pregnancy. Clark obviously wanted the child, but was also terrified of losing his husband. Bruce had shut them down entirely.

“Absolutely,” he had said. “I knew there were going to be risks from the start. I’m not changing my mind.”

Despite the burning pain in the bottom of his abdomen; despite the heavy weight in his pelvis; despite the fear coursing through Bruce’s veins; he didn’t regret his decision at all.

Alfred and Clark had moved all of them to the lakehouse about a month prior to Bruce’s due date. They had decided it was best for Bruce to deliver the baby there instead of at a hospital or the manor. The media was aware Bruce was pregnant and, undoubtedly, would run rampant if they saw any sort of medical personnel entering the manor, or any vehicle leaving it with Bruce inside. Besides, no doctor could care for Bruce Wayne’s half-Kryptonian child without knowing that Clark Kent was actually Superman.

The lake house was on the far side of the Wayne estate. It was not accessible by public roads, the drive branching off behind the mansion and entirely enclosed by trees. Only those who had seen the blueprints of the estate or knew Bruce personally were aware of its existence, so it was essentially the perfect place for Bruce to labor in peace.

Well, as in peace as he could be, given the intense pain he was in.

Bruce was bouncing and rocking on an exercise ball in the tidy master bedroom. Clark had marveled when they first moved in. Alfred affectionately called the building “the little house on the lake,” which wasn’t exactly fitting considering that the bedroom alone was almost the size of the apartment Clark lived in before he and Bruce had gotten married. Clark approached his husband with a glass of water.

“B,” he said. “Leslie says you should have something to drink.”

“I don’t want it,” Bruce panted. He was sweating profusely, his body working overtime. Even for an exceptionally fit man, the involuntary and relentless muscle work was incredibly difficult to bear. “Everything hurts.”

Clark gently pressed his palm to Bruce’s cheek, futilely dabbing away a few beads of sweat.

“I know, Bruce,” he said, softly. “I’m so sorry you’re in pain, and I know it must be uncomfortable, but Leslie is really worried you’re going to become dehydrated.”

“I’ll throw it up,” Bruce said. His words morphed into a loud whine as another contraction gripped his body. Clark wrapped his arms around Bruce’s neck and held onto him as his husband bobbed up and down, trying to breathe and ride out the pain.

“Clark, this hurts so badly,” Bruce whispered. “I never thought it would hurt this badly.”

“I know, B,” Clark said again. “I’m so so sorry. Every time it hurts though, it brings you closer to meeting your baby.”

“Ours,” Bruce said, inhaling deeply. “Our baby.”

Clark pressed a kiss to the top of Bruce’s head. “Ours. Now, I’ll be back with some ice chips. Maybe that will help.”

~

Twenty-three very long hours after he had had his first contraction, Bruce cried out with an intensity Clark had never heard before, turning to Clark with a look of desperation and fear that shook Clark to his core.

“Something’s wrong,” Bruce said, frantically gesturing to the pajamas he was wearing. They were a dark grey color, but there was a large wet spot that was unmistakably a very deep, sickly red. Blood was running down the back of Bruce’s bare thighs and onto the sheets. “I feel like I need to push but Clark, something's wrong!”

Clark didn’t respond to Bruce, but called for Leslie. She came in quickly, stepping immediately to the foot of the bed Bruce had settled into. She removed his sweatpants and propped his legs up. Clark knelt next to Bruce’s chest and held onto his hand. He didn’t like the way Bruce’s hands were shaking, and his husband’s paling complexion wasn’t giving him confidence either.

Leslie looked up moments after she had arrived, and unblinkingly told Bruce that he had to push with his next contraction.

Bruce asked, a hint of panic in his voice: “Is the baby okay?”

“He will be if we get him out, Bruce, you just have to start pushing on the next contraction, trust me.”

Bruce had kept his cool relatively well throughout the duration of his labor, but Clark watched the panic rise in his husband’s eyes until it bubbled over.

“I’m not ready!” he cried. “I can’t do this! I can’t!”

Clark squeezed his hand gently, pressing it to his lips. “Yes you can, B. I know you can.”

Bruce had _actual tears_ running down his face; alarms were ringing in Clark’s head. Bruce _never_ cried, and he really wasn’t sure how to deal with it.

“Clark,” Leslie said, pulling on a pair of white gloves. “Can you help Bruce up and get him kneeling on the edge of the bed, his back to me? You kneel too, facing him with your back to the wall. He can wrap his arms around your neck and use you as leverage to push.”

Clark nodded and helped Bruce move how Leslie had described. He could tell immediately once Bruce was in position that the dynamic in the room had changed. Bruce’s hands were tight around his neck, and Clark pressed their chests together to help support him further, trying to ignore the fear radiating from all three bodies and focus instead on helping his husband through the task at hand.

Bruce tensed.

“Tuck your chin in, deep breath, and push with all you’ve got,” Leslie instructed. Bruce followed, tears still flowing freely down his face. His mouth was pressed against Clark’s firm shoulder, his muscle muffling Bruce’s cry of pain.

Clark couldn’t see much of what was happening behind Bruce, but Leslie’s hands occasionally came into view, grabbing cloth and, at one point, a fresh pair of gloves. They were always covered in blood, and the more times they came into view, the darker they became. Clark was trying not to panic as Bruce screamed into his shoulder again.

“We’re crowning, Bruce!” Leslie called. “Keep pushing, just like you are. Alfred?” 

Bruce was sobbing onto Clark’s shoulder when Alfred came into the room. The butler, despite the situation he was now suddenly a part of, remained incredibly calm.

“Doctor Thompkins,” he said smoothly. “You called?”

Bruce let out another muffled scream as he pushed. “Burns!” he cried. “It’s burning!”

“Yes, Bruce,” Leslie said, nodding. “I’m sure it is. Keep going, baby’s head is almost here. Alfred, I need you to call an ambulance. Tell them I have a male uterine rupture.”

Alfred nodded and turned out of the room.

“What does that mean?” Bruce asked. He had lifted off of Clark’s shoulder and was wincing and panting. “Will the baby be okay?”

“I’m not worried about the baby at all, Bruce,” Leslie said. “He’s lucky he’s Clark’s son right now, because he doesn’t need as much oxygen...but you do need to get him out. Your uterus is essentially just a big hollow muscle, and judging by the amount of pain you’re in and the amount of blood you’re losing, you’ve torn that muscle.”

“Is Bruce going to be okay?” He asked immediately. Leslie did not respond. “Leslie?”

“The blood,” she said. “He’s bleeding _profusely_ , and I don’t need you to check to know that his heart rate is alarmingly low.”

Bruce was pushing without Leslie’s command now, and Clark heard him gasp after a particularly loud cry into his shoulder.

“Head’s out,” Leslie said, reaching a bloodied hand for a small sheet. “Come on, Bruce, you’re so close now. One more big push and baby’s here.”

They were both shaking now. Clark moved Bruce so that he could see his face, pressing his own forehead to his husband’s sickly pale one.

“One more, B,” Clark said, trying to suppress the panic that he felt. “One more. I love you so much.”

Tears fell from Clark’s eyes as Bruce screamed for the last time before it was over, the force of the push finally and officially bringing their baby into the world. He could hear sirens, and though they were still far off, he was at least glad he knew they were on the way. He passed the information along to Leslie, who nodded.

“Good,” she said, her hands working quickly. “I’d let you cut the cord but I need you to hold Bruce up.” 

She wrapped a blanket around Bruce’s waist, covering most of the blood and anything Bruce would likely rather not have on display.

“The baby…” Bruce whispered, his head against Clark’s shoulder. “Our baby…”

“He’s beautiful, Bruce,” Leslie said. “And perfectly healthy. I’d love to show him to you, Bruce honey, but we have to make sure we get you some help first. Alfred?”

The butler stepped into the doorway again. Before he could address her with his usual formalities, Leslie cut him off.

“Alfred I need you to change places with Clark.”

Alfred stepped into the room without hesitation, allowing Clark to support Bruce until they had changed positions. Pale, sweating, and clearly exhausted, Bruce draped his arms around Alfred.

Leslie beckoned Clark to the foot of the bed. There, not yet wrapped in his blanket, lay a small curly haired infant, his face scrunched up in discomfort as he let out his first wail. 

Clark was speechless as Leslie thrusted the crying child into his arms, encouraging him to hold his son tightly to his chest.

“He needs body contact,” she explained. “He’s overwhelmed. It’s nasty business, being brought into the world. He needs you.”

“Bruce…” 

“Bruce needs a hospital right now, Clark,” she said. “I know you want to help him, but the best thing for you to be doing right now is holding that baby.”

Clark nodded as sirens approached the cabin.

“Master Bruce,” Alfred said to his acquired son, no hint of a tremor in his voice. “I am of the opinion that you and Master Clark have produced the most adorable child I have ever seen. However, before you can see him, you need to be strong and get better.”

“No...hospital…” Bruce said. “Clark...Superman…”

“I’m sorry, Bruce,” Leslie said. “You don’t have a choice here.”

“We’ll cut a cheque, Master Bruce,” Alfred said. “Your son needs you, and your husband does not want to lose you. You’re going to make it through this, but you need the hospital.”

Leslie somehow managed to coax Bruce into delivering the afterbirth before paramedics rushed into the room. Clark noticed how sunk in Bruce’s eyes were when they shifted him onto the stretcher. The paramedics allowed him and Leslie both to ride in the back of the ambulance, banking partially on Leslie’s medical experience and knowledge of the situation, and frankly afraid to say no to Clark’s insistent demands and penetrating stare. Alfred resolved to follow the ambulance in one of the Wayne estate’s many cars.

Bruce was immediately placed on oxygen and attached to an IV drip. He was slipping in and out of consciousness, and could not speak coherently. Clark stayed with him, their son still pressed to his chest. Leslie spent the entirety of the ambulance ride explaining to Clark what was going to happen when they arrived at the hospital.

“He needs surgery to repair the rupture,” she said. “It seems to be a fairly small tear, so Bruce likely will not need a hysterectomy. In a normal patient, this would have been fairly minor, but considering that Bruce is male and the baby is…”

“My son,” Clark said, tears forming in his eyes. “He’d be okay if the baby wasn’t mine.”

“Clark,” Leslie said, reaching to place a gentle hand on his forearm. “Bruce wouldn’t want to have a baby with anyone else. I’m certain of it, so don’t start blaming yourself. And part of the urgency of the situation is because we weren’t already at a hospital. If he was there, he’d be fixed already.”

Clark nodded.

“You won’t be able to come into the surgery, I hope you know that,” she said. “I’ll have to take the baby and Bruce away from you, as much as I know you don’t want to leave them. Clark, I know it’s going to be hard, but this time I advise that you don’t insist on staying with them. Don’t interfere. I will be there with both of them, and I will tell you everything that happens when it’s all over.”

“I know you will,” Clark choked. “I trust you, Leslie. Please, please save him.”

“I’ll do my damnedest,” Leslie said as the doors of the ambulance reopened.

They pulled Bruce out of the back and Leslie took their son from Clark’s arms. Clark jogged as they entered the hospital, easily keeping pace with the gurney and staying right next to his husband. Eventually, they came to a set of double doors and Leslie nodded at him. 

He slowed his steps and watched as Bruce and their newborn son were taken away from him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is welcome (and much appreciated)! Thanks for stopping by!


	2. Breaking News

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce begins to recover, and he and Clark officially meet their baby for the first time.

_Good evening, Gotham City. I’m Summer Gleeson, and this is your Nightly Newsbreak._

_This evening, an explosion from inside the R.H. Kane Building scattered debris across the Aparo Expressway, resulting in a minor motor vehicle accident. Thankfully, no one was in the building when the explosion occurred, and passengers walked away with only minor injuries._

_It is unknown at this time what caused this disturbance. Police Commissioner Jim Gordon addressed the city openly, explaining that the GCPD had begun conducting an ongoing investigation into the explosion.They have not yet ruled out the possibility that this was a targeted attack. Reports also indicate that Gotham’s vigilante, the Batman, was not on scene._

_In Celebrity News, earlier this evening, an ambulance was seen departing from Wayne Manor. Admirers of the estate’s owner, billionaire Bruce Wayne, have been speculating the circumstances for which the ambulance was required. Several calls have come into the studio claiming that Wayne was brought in on a gurney and rushed into surgery, however Gotham City General Hospital is unable to comment on the situation._

_“We take the security and privacy of our patients very seriously,” said Dr. Bell, resident surgeon. “GCGH will not be releasing any information regarding the ambulance seen at Wayne Manor, and would like to remind citizens of Gotham to also respect Mr. Wayne’s privacy.”_

_Earlier this year, Wayne revealed that he was in a relationship with Metropolis’ Daily Planet reporter, Clark Kent, and that the two were expecting their first child together. Most of Wayne’s fans seem to suspect the ambulance ride has something to do with the baby, however, none of Wayne’s employees were willing to comment._

Clark shut off the television. Alfred had joined him in the waiting room, and much to their dismay, they had been recognized. A commotion had broken out; as it turns out, a reporter for the Gotham Gazette happened to be in the emergency room, and though he was off-duty to tend to a very _clearly_ broken arm, had tried to insist upon interviewing Clark about the situation.

Alfred had spoken to one of the receptionists, who kindly arranged for the pair of them to be escorted to a more private area. It was another waiting room, but this one on the actual maternity ward. There was only one other person in the area--a man, asleep on one of the chairs. Clark assumed he wouldn’t mind if he missed the news.

“Master Clark,” Alfred said, quietly. “I’m sure he will pull through. Dr. Thompkins said that it was not a worse case scenario.” 

Clark nodded. His hands were folded together and pressed against his chin. “I know, but I’m not going to feel okay until I see him awake and not...so _pale_ . He was _so pale,_ Alfred, like he had no blood left.” Tears threatened to spill over his eyes and, unsure what to say, Alfred simply rested a hand on Clark’s shoulder.

It had been just over two hours since they had arrived at the hospital when Leslie _finally_ pushed through the doors of the waiting room.

“He’s fine,” Leslie said as she made her way over to Clark. “You can’t go to see him just yet, they literally just pulled him out of the OR, but he’s going to be perfectly fine. The procedure went smoothly, no hysterectomy necessary.”

Clark felt like crying of relief, but managed to hold in his emotions. Alfred, however, did not, a tear leaking from his eye as he covered his mouth with his hand.

“Thank goodness,” he said. “I was terrified.”

Clark hesitated for a second, then banished his reservation and wrapped his arms around Alfred, who somehow had prioritized comforting him when clearly he was also very upset. Alfred accepted the hug appreciatively.

“When can we see him?” Clark asked. “And what about our baby?”

“You can see him as soon as the nurses have secured his intravenous transfusion in the new room; there is still quite a bit of blood to be replaced, but we are on our way. As for your son,” she said, quietly, mindful of the slumbering man in the chair a few feet away. “He is perfectly healthy, which is quite ideal given the circumstances. The hospital has agreed to protect his secret, although we went about it in a slightly unconventional way.”

“How so?” Clark asked, confused.

“Rather than just tell them that you are Kryptonian, we informed them that the baby is not yours, but Superman’s. We also told them that Bruce Wayne’s lawyers would be all over them if they dared reveal that his child is illegitimate.”

“That’s...actually kind of clever,” Clark replied. “As much as I hate the fact that two or three people think that Bruce _cheated_ on me, at least they don’t suspect my identity. And besides, _I_ know he’s mine.”

“You’ll be even more certain once you get a good look at him,” Leslie laughed. “Once he holds your finger. Impossibly strong, he is, and his eyes are yours through and through.”

“He’s opened his eyes?” Clark said, feeling something catch in the back of his throat. “Can I please see him?”

“You can,” she said. “Come with me, we’ll go get him and you can take him up to Bruce’s room. I’m sure he’ll be settled by the time we get up there.”

As they walked, Leslie talked about the baby.

“He opened his eyes when we bathed him,” she said. “He was still covered in vernix; I wasn’t able to towel it all off at the lake house, as you may have felt while holding him.”

“Admittedly, I don’t remember much of the ride here,” Clark said, frowning. “I think I was in a bit of shock.”

“Of course you were,” Leslie said. “Only natural, considering. But yes, your son was not too fond of his bath time, that’s for sure. Once we had washed him off, however, he was a complete angel. He was confused and scared, looking and listening for you or Bruce, probably, but he didn’t fuss too much. He’s dressed and resting in here.”

They had reached a room with clear windows, and Clark could see several babies in little cots, separated only by thin plastic shields. Leslie directed him to a cot near the back, but he would have been able to recognize their son without direction. 

He was wrapped in a black onesie and matching cap, his Daddy’s favorite color. His hands were clenched into fists, and his face was scrunched up in distaste. His facial features, though distinctly plump in typical newborn fashion, were still perfectly reminiscent of Bruce’s. His scowl, Clark mused, was also quite like his father’s.

“Young master seems displeased,” Alfred said, smiling at Clark. “Already taking after his father.”

Clark’s eyes filled with tears as he leaned over his son’s cot. He wanted to pick him up, to caress him and hold him tightly to his chest, but he was afraid. Leslie sensed his hesitation.

“He is as invulnerable as you are, Clark,” she whispered. “And besides, you are his father, and you will not hurt him. You need to trust yourself.”

Clark nodded and pushed his glasses up his nose. He gently reached into the cot, sliding a hand delicately under the baby’s neck, supporting his head as he raised his bum and back off the mattress. 

He was so light, and Clark was amazed at how perfectly his son fit in the crook of his arm. He was emotional again as he pressed the baby to his chest, murmuring “you’re so perfect” to him. Leslie cooed, all three of them watching as the baby’s face relaxed into Clark’s touch, and the sound of his voice.

“That’s it,” Leslie smiled. “Look at him, comforted by you. He knows you, your voice, touch, and smell. You were the first one to hold him when he was born--that’s important. He’ll know Bruce’s voice when he hears him because he carried him. It’s amazing how a newborn bonds with their parents so quickly.”

“Let’s get him down to Bruce’s room,” she continued. “The cots are movable; he’ll have to come back here to be observed overnight, but we can take it with us for now. Do you want to push him in it? Or carry him?”

“I don’t think I can put him down,” Clark said, softly. He was finding it difficult to even look away from his son’s precious sleeping face.

“I’ll happily push the cot, Doctor Thompkins,” Alfred said, smiling at Clark and the baby. “You lead the way.”

It wasn’t a very long walk. Leslie pushed open the door to a private room at the very end of the hall and beckoned for Clark and Alfred to come in after her. They followed, and Clark’s breath hitched at the sight of Bruce.

He looked better, that was inarguable, however he still looked pallid and exhausted. His cheeks had little color to them, but Clark could tell that the blood draining into him via his IV was helping. He listened for his husband’s heartbeat, something he had not allowed himself to do since they arrived at the hospital, and was relieved to hear it was _much_ stronger and more stable than before. He should have figured--Leslie had said the surgery was very successful--but it was still a relief to see and hear it with his own eyes.

He shifted the tiny baby in his arms so that he was holding him with one, and made his way to the side of Bruce’s bed. He placed his free hand over Bruce’s.

“Let’s give them a minute, shall we Doctor Thompkins?” Alfred said, smiling softly at Clark. “I could use a hot cup of tea.”

Leslie nodded and led Alfred out, indicating she would take him to the food court. “If he wakes up, you can press that green button there; unless he is in a lot of pain, then press the red one.”

Clark nodded as she gestured to the buttons, and thanked her.

As soon as the door shut, he gently squeezed Bruce’s hand and let out a sob that he hadn’t even known he was holding in. Tears fell freely from his face and onto his arm, his temple resting against his elbow as his hazy eyes flicked back and forth between the baby and Bruce.

His tears slowed to sniffles as he laid with Bruce. The baby was making small noises, as if once in a while he needed to let out a big sigh. At one point he began whimpering lightly, so Clark sat up and pressed a finger to his son’s cheek.

“He looks like me,” said a gruff, exhaustion driven voice. “I really wanted him to look exactly like you.”

“Bruce,” Clark said, looking up from their son. “Oh, Bruce. I’m so glad you’re awake. How are you feeling? Any pain?”

“That sucked,” Bruce said. “That was scary as hell, I’m not going to lie and pretend it wasn’t, but I’m okay. I feel residual soreness, both from the birth and the surgery, but nothing terrible.”

“You were amazing,” Clark said, he leaned over and pressed the green button. “And just so you know, I am delighted that our son looks like you. He has already mastered the famous batglare.”

“No,” Bruce said, waking up, a small smile creeping onto his face. “No way, it takes _years_.”

“Nope,” Clark chuckled. “He’s already got it. Even Alfred said so; he takes after you.”

The baby took this time to open his eyes slightly, squinting over at Bruce.

“Eyes…” Bruce said. “Oh, Clark, he’s got your eyes.”

“He does,” Clark smiled. “He definitely does.”

A soft knock at the door indicated that someone was here to check on Bruce. Clark stood and opened it.

It was Leslie and Alfred.

“We were walking past the station when you buzzed, Clark,” she said. “They cleared me to take a look at him. I’m listed as Bruce’s primary anyway. How are you feeling?”

She had directed her attention to Bruce, who smiled weakly.

“I’ve been better,” he said. “But I’ve also been worse. Looking at him helps, cause he’s goddamn perfect.”

“He is,” Leslie smiled. “Any pain?”

“A little,” Bruce said. “My ass is sore and my stomach, where I presume I have either sutures or staples.”

“You were much more delicate when you told me,” Clark chuckled.

“Well,” Bruce chuckled too. “She watched him come right out of me, so I don’t think Leslie cares. Also, what am I supposed to say, my anus? No thanks.”

Leslie was chuckling, and Alfred was biting his lip.

“You’re right, Bruce. That’s just fine, and it sounds like you’re only experiencing the pain that’s to be expected.”

Bruce nodded. “Does that mean I can hold him?”

Leslie smiled. “Yes, if you can get your husband to give him up.”

Bruce _pouted_ at Clark, who had never had any intention of hogging their son.

“ _Of course_ you can hold him, Bruce,” Clark rolled his eyes, reaching out to pass their son to him. “After all that work, you deserve all the time you want with him.”

Bruce carefully cradled him in his arms.

“Forever,” he whispered. “I’m never going to let him go.”

Leslie smiled softly. “Give it about half an hour; then you’ll be so tired you won’t be able to hold him anymore. Besides, it’s getting late in the evening, so we’ll have to take him to the nursery again soon.”

A wave of panic that Clark had never seen before flashed through Bruce’s eyes.

“You’re taking him away?”

“Just for the night,” Leslie said. “He’s a few hours old. He needs to be observed, given his _special_ attributes. Speaking of which, have you let him hold your finger?”

Bruce wiggled his finger in between his son’s fingers and smiled as he clutched them.

“Strong…” he whispered, and turned to Clark. “Just like his Dad.”

Clark smiled and turned to Leslie and Alfred.

“Can we have another minute alone, please?” he said. They nodded and exited.

Bruce looked up at Clark, emotion written all over his face. Adoration, relief, happiness, fear…

“Are we ready for this?” he asked. “Are we ready to take care of a tiny human-Kryptonian? I don’t know if I’m ready.”

“I think we’re as ready as we will ever be,” Clark said. 

“Our jobs...I mean, our night jobs. They’re dangerous,” Bruce frowned. “What if he gets caught up in that? I don’t ever want to put him at risk.”

“Of course not,” Clark said. “He’s an infant at the present moment, so it’s not like he’ll be begging to don the Robin costume anytime soon. And if that day does come, where he wants to take after us, we’ll tackle that then. You also have to remember, Bruce, he takes after me. It’s going to take a lot to hurt him. He’s going to be tough as hell.”

“He already is,” Bruce said softly. “What happened...he should have been in distress. He was in the birth canal for too long, too big and under too much pressure… but he was completely fine. He’s resilient.”

“He is,” Clark smiled. “I love you, Bruce.”

“I love you too, Clark,” he replied. “We have to name him, don’t we.”

Clark smiled. “We do. That’s why I asked them to step out.”

“I still want to use your father’s name,” Bruce said. “And I think I know the middle name I want too, but we never talked about it.”

Clark agreed to Bruce’s suggestion immediately, and called for Leslie and Alfred to return to the room. Bruce called Alfred over to the side of the bed, and offered for the butler to take him.

“We’ve decided what to call him,” Bruce said, watching his son relax in the older man’s arms. “Jonathan Alfred.”

Clark, Leslie, and Bruce smiled, watching as Alfred stared down at his namesake in wonder.

“Master Bruce…” Alfred started, his voice shaking. “You certainly didn’t have to-”

Bruce put his hand up. “Don’t, Alfred. We didn’t have to, we wanted to. My son is named after his parents’ fathers. It actually happens very frequently.”

Alfred’s face softened, and his eyes filled.

“Besides,” Bruce continued. “We knew we wanted Jonathan, but Jonathan Thomas didn’t sound quite right. J.A. Kent-Wayne. Much better.”

Clark smiled as Alfred rocked Jonathan, relishing in the moment. Leslie spoke all too soon, saying it was time for Clark and Alfred to go home and for Bruce and Jonathan to rest.

Bruce took their baby back for a minute, pressing tender kisses to his forehead and swearing to bring him back in the morning after both of them had slept. Clark took him from Bruce to carry him back to the nursery, kissing his husband goodbye and promising to come back in the morning as well, possibly before Bruce could even get his hands on Jonathan.

Bruce was almost asleep by the time they shut the door to his room, Alfred pushing the cot again as they made their way down the hall. Clark, too, pressed light kisses to his son’s forehead as he laid him down for the night.

“We already love you so much, baby boy,” he said, Alfred and Leslie chatting a few feet away, oblivious to his cooing. “Your Daddy and I...we’re always going to be here for you. We’re always going to protect you.”

Leslie pulled him away finally. Clark chatted happily with Leslie and Alfred, overwhelmed with relief and affection toward his husband and new baby son. 

He’d kick himself later. Maybe if he’d have been paying more attention, he would have seen that something wasn’t quite right with the nurse that they passed on their way out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is welcome (and much appreciated)! Thanks for stopping by!


	3. Gone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clark returns to the hospital to find that many things are not how he expected they'd be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone who commented, I really appreciate it. I would love to hear more from you! :)

Clark had expected Bruce to be extraordinarily tired when he went in the next morning; dark circles under his eyes, complaining profusely about his soreness while simultaneously incredibly annoyed by the way that everyone was doting on him unnecessarily.

He had expected that Jonathan would sleep for most of the day, but that Clark and Bruce would be able to hold him, possibly take him outside if they could take Bruce in a wheelchair. He had expected he would be able to call his Ma and invite her to come down and see her grandson for the first time.

He had expected the day to be odd, for sure, but in a new and exciting way.

He had not expected a phone call at 6:30 in the morning, telling him that there had been an emergency, and he needed to come in sooner than anticipated.

He had not expected that, once he and Alfred arrived, he would find his husband standing in the hallway in nothing but his hospital gown and underwear, yelling angrily at the top of his lungs, his chest heaving and hands shaking with nothing but utter  _ panic _ . 

He had not expected Bruce to stumble up to him, blood dripping down his abdomen from the tender surgical wound with torn sutures… He had not been prepared to see lochia soaking Bruce’s underwear and the back of his legs, his body struggling to function when it hadn’t recovered properly. He had not expected nurses to be running frantically around them, yelling about security and the need for a head count in the maternity ward; and he  _ definitely  _ had not expected police officers to enter the hospital shortly behind him, making their way to the exact same spot he was heading.

But most of all, nothing could have possibly prepared him for the first words Bruce spoke to him that morning.

“Clark! These fuckers… the nurse... let... someone  _ took _ him! They let…our baby... he’s gone!  _ Someone... took… Jonathan! _ ” 

\-----

The morning was a whirlwind. Bruce had collapsed into Clark’s arms as he tried to make sense of what his husband was saying. He had thought he must have heard him incorrectly, or alternatively, that Bruce was having some sort of manic episode. It couldn’t have been correct. Clark had seen the security himself; the locks on the nursery, and the guards roaming the halls of every wing. The protection put in place by the hospital for the fragile lives entrusted in their care had been adequate in Clark’s opinion...

...but apparently all of it had failed, because at 6:13 in the morning, an unidentifiable woman dressed in a very convincing nursing uniform walked out of Gotham City General Hospital with their newborn baby.

Bruce had eventually needed sedation; the stitches in his abdomen needed to be replaced and the postpartum bleeding controlled. 

Clark had listened cautiously while a police officer explained what had happened. He called his Ma and asked her to come to Gotham, even though her grandson wasn't actually there.

He called Lois, one of the only people outside of the League who knew what was going on. She offered to call Perry on his behalf to request an extended absence, who almost immediately called Clark and offered his condolences, and to send out social media alerts on all of the Planet's platforms.

Clark cried into Bruce’s arm, desperate for his husband to wake up but also completely terrified that he would be just as panicked as he was in the morning, and would just need to be sedated again. Alfred stayed with him, and about an hour later, Martha arrived. When she did, the three of them cried together at Bruce’s side, police officers coming in and out of the room.

Clark gave his statement, as did Alfred and Leslie, describing exactly what they saw when they left the nursery the night before. 

Unfortunately, it wasn't much. Clark had been too distracted by his happiness, the excitement of his newborn son, to register the nurse's face.

He wished that he hadn't been distracted. Wished that he hadn't let himself have that moment of blissful ignorance, but he had just been so  _ happy _ looking at his son. 

A perfect blend of Bruce and himself, adorable, and completely and utterly  _ innocent _ .

“Ma,” Clark was hiccuping, his body stuck in limbo between confusion and panic. “I’ve been listening for him...for his heart…but I can’t concentrate enough...I can’t block everything else out and my mind is just racing.”

He was, at this point, just trying not to hyperventilate. He had gone into a sort of shock-like state, similar to his mindset during the ambulance ride; aware of what was happening, but also not really registering the severity of the situation. After Martha had arrived, reality had come rushing back to Clark, and he had been wrestling with his emotions ever since.

“Who…? Who would do this?” He asked, his chest rising and falling rapidly as Martha squeezed his hand. “Who would...take a...little...baby? Our little baby boy?”

She shook her head, unsure how to respond.

“Master Clark,” Alfred said quietly. “Might I suggest that perhaps Master Jonathan was taken by someone who  _ knows who you are _ ?”

Clark’s heart sank at the thought. 

The possibility that someone took Jonathan because  _ he  _ was Superman was horrifying, but also disgustingly plausible, and provided what was possibly the only logical explanation for what had happened. 

After a few deep breaths, Clark was able to nod in agreement. “Okay,” he said. “Okay that would make some sense, I guess. I mean, there are no other Kryptonians in the world besides the two of us, and I’m not exactly easy to capture. It’s sick, but maybe it’s someone who wanted to…”

Clark couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence, but a very sluggish Bruce did it for him.

“Study him,” Bruce practically croaked, his voice hoarse from his earlier paroxysm of anger. He pushed himself up, wincing at the pull on his stitches, his eyes sullen and brimming with tears, both from fatigue and grief. “There were reporters here last night, right? I heard Leslie talking. Someone saw the news, knows that Bruce Wayne gave birth. Someone knows who we  _ actually _ are, and  _ helped themselves _ to what they saw as a fascinating specimen.”

Clark suddenly felt desperate to be closer to Bruce, for his touch. His husband was rarely emotional, but Clark had seen the raw terror on his face earlier that morning. He wanted nothing more than to pull him into his arms, and meeting Bruce’s watery gaze told him that his husband wanted the exact same thing.

Clark snaked his hand gently behind Bruce’s tailbone, minding his sensitive posterior as he pulled him off the edge of the bed and into his own strong arms. He held him in his lap, the thin blanket still wrapped gently around his waist.

“Clark,” Bruce cried, an onset of tears suddenly and forcefully shaking his body. He buried his head in Clark’s shoulder. “Why did this have to happen? If I hadn’t needed to come here, nobody would have even known he was born until we wanted them to. We could have protected him.  _ I  _ could have protected him.”

“Bruce,” Clark whispered, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Bruce, this is not your fault in  _ any way _ . You can’t blame yourself for what happened because you literally had  _ no _ control over it.”

“And it’s not your fault either,” Bruce was sniffling. “I know you, I know you’re probably telling yourself right now that if you weren’t from Krypton, our son would be normal and healthy and happy in our arms, but don’t do that, because if you weren’t from Krypton, our son would not exist.”

Clark’s eyes watered as he pulled Bruce tighter. His husband was frail, he could feel it in the way he was laying against him. Clark was strong and could easily bear Bruce’s weight, but he felt different laying in his arms like this. It had also been so long since Clark hadn’t had to mind Bruce’s stomach, so the closeness of their bodies was an adjustment as well.  _ A good one. _

Clark’s thoughts were broken when Bruce suddenly sobbed loudly and curled tighter around him. It took a moment, but with Clark’s gentle soothing back rubs, Bruce was able to speak.

“I can’t explain it, but my body feels physically  _ wrong _ . Not sick, or nauseous, or even scared… but…I felt it last night when you left with him, knowing that he was going to be away from me, and now I still feel it, but it’s intensified. It’s like I don’t know who I am… it’s like I’m...”

“Lost,” Martha said. “You feel completely lost when you’re separated from your child, especially when it’s only been hours since you got to meet them.”

Bruce looked weakly at Martha, who gently placed a hand on his hip. 

“He’s been with me for nine months…” Bruce said, softly. “I could protect him when he was inside of me, I could soothe him and talk to him, and feel him move. I always knew if he was okay or not, but now… now I don’t know if he’s okay and I feel  _ wrong _ .”

“It’s instinct,” Martha said softly. “When something has happened to your child, whether or not you are consciously aware of what that something is, you feel disconnected. It’s something you never knew you could feel as a physical sensation, but once you know your child is in danger, there it is, achingly heavy in your gut.”

Bruce looked over to Alfred, who had few words for his own surrogate son except: “I can confirm. I have experienced that feeling as well, with you. Unfortunately, it doesn’t go away until said child is returned safely to your care.”

Bruce’s tears returned and he tightened his grip around Clark’s neck, leaning his head into Clark’s chest. They all stayed quiet for a few minutes; thinking, processing.

“I can go out,” Bruce said, suddenly, sitting up. “I have to go out and look for him-”

“Bruce, you will do no such thing,” Leslie said, entering the room. She hadn’t knocked, but nobody thought anything of it. “I know that what’s happening right now is confusing and terrifying, but your stitches split fifteen steps into the hallway and your body is still recovering from the birth itself. You’re in no state to walk, much less swing from building to building.”

“I’m fine,” Bruce said, trying to push himself off of Clark. He proved himself wrong moments later when the mere act of  _ sitting _ made him wince. He suppressed a hiss. “My baby is not fine. He needs me, he...ouch! Fuck!”

“Hey,” Clark said, rapidly moving to shift Bruce out of the uncomfortable position. “Remember, you were the one who emphasized that he’s  _ our _ baby, not just yours. I have a duty to protect him as well.”

Bruce met his gaze, his brow creasing in concern.

“I know you want to go, Bruce, and if I were in your shoes I would go crazy staying here too,” Clark continued. “But  _ I  _ will go. I didn’t just give birth  _ and _ undergo surgery.”

Bruce’s eyes welled again as he smiled weakly at Clark. He swiped at his eyes. “Fucking hell, why the fuck am I so emotional.”

Martha smiled gently, and placed a hand on Clark’s shoulders. She looked at Bruce.

“You just gave birth to a baby, whom you should be doting on right now,” she said. “Bruce, honey, your emotions are entirely justified,  _ physically, by your hormonal imbalance _ . They are there, whether you like them or not.”

“They’re  _ inconvenient _ ,” Bruce sobbed, looking at Clark. “ _ Please,  _ Clark.  _ Please find our son _ .”

“I will try my best, Bruce,” he responded. “I had enough time awake at night worrying about you two while you were pregnant to know his heartbeat. I’ll try and isolate it, to find where he is, and I’ll…”

“Call Miss Prince,” Alfred interjected. “And the rest of your league.”

Clark looked at Alfred.

“Whoever has Master Jonathan must know that he's special, and if they know that, there is a significant chance they have Kryptonite too.” 

Bruce began to cry silently again. Clark rubbed soothing circles into his back, keeping his gaze locked on Alfred. 

"And if that is the case, it would be very unwise to attempt a rescue alone. It would be most unfortunate if you were incapacitated before you get to your son."

Clark nodded and looked at Bruce, who pressed his hand gently against Clark's cheek.

“We lost our son this morning, Clark, I can’t lose my husband too. Please be careful.”

“I will,” he said. "I'll call everyone on the comm, and I'll have someone bring one for Alfred so he can keep you in the loop." 

He shot his mother an apologetic look to preface his upcoming statement, before pressing a kiss firmly to Bruce’s head and saying:

"I’m going to find and reprimand whatever sick, twisted, son of a bitch took our son.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is welcome and very much appreciated. Thanks for stopping by!


	4. Show No Mercy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clark calls the league for help, and a few secrets are revealed. The identity of the mysterious nurse is discovered, but all isn't as it seems.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I just wanted to clarify that, as with most of my stories, I've completely made up the continuity for this. 
> 
> In my world, the Justice League members are true to the 2017 movie, because I fell in love with Affleck and Cavill and that's just how I picture them, but you can also picture these characters as any other versions of them in the DCU. Whatever floats your boat. I just wanted to clarify, because in this story, Clark, Bruce, and Diana know the identities of Cyborg, Aquaman, and Flash, but the latter three don't know theirs. I hope my messed up perception of the DC universe does not ruin this for anyone :)
> 
> By the way, thank you to everyone who has commented. Your kind words warm my heart, and make me want to keep writing this. <3

Clark and Alfred were in the hallway, Martha keeping Bruce company while Clark prepared to head out.

His mind was suddenly the clearest it had been the entire morning; the confusion and fear replaced with determination and hot  _ anger _ . 

“I’m going to call the league, like you suggested, before I even try to find Jon’s heartbeat,” he said to Alfred. “Tell them who we are, and ask for their help. If they agree, I’m going to have Cyborg come to the hospital and hack into the camera feed--perhaps somehow he can get a clearer picture of that nurse than we could see this morning…”

Alfred nodded.

“I was too excited, last night,” Clark said, his expression turning impossibly more sullen. “I was too happy to talk about his fingers and toes to notice that something was off with the nurse.”

“Master Clark,” Alfred responded. “It is not certain that there was anything off about her at all; there may not have been anything to notice.”

“Regardless,” Clark said. “Victor can take a look. Hopefully he’ll be able to adjust the quality of the video, and see if he can match her face with anyone. Like I mentioned to Bruce, I’m also going to get him to deliver comms to you, one for you and one for Bruce. I know he needs to rest, but you know him, he’ll go crazy if he’s not kept in the loop and that will just increase the chance that he’ll do something foolish. He needs to heal.”

Alfred nodded again. 

“Diana, Barry, and Arthur can come with me,” Clark continued. “I’m praying that Barry will be able to get in and get Jonathan out without any other interference, but I don’t even know where he is yet. I also wanted to say that...if it comes down to it, I will do anything to get Jonathan back to Bruce, even if that means I have to stay in his place.”

“Master Clark…”

“Don’t,” Clark said, putting his hand up. “I’m sorry. I know you disagree, but I will change places with him in a heartbeat. He’s too small, too new to the world and the yellow sun. I’m worried that he won’t be entirely invulnerable yet despite his strength...”

Alfred put a hand on his shoulder.

“Go, Master Clark,” he said. “I know you’ll do what you must, and as a father myself, I respect that choice.”

\----

Clark took to the sky as soon as he had changed, his comm turned on and tuned into the central channel.

“Hello? It’s Superman,” he said. “I need your help. Something’s happened, and this time, it’s personal.”

“Superman…” Diana responded almost immediately. “What’s going on?”

“I’m here,” Barry said, tuning in as well. Victor and Arthur checked in moments later. Clark had to give it to them; Bruce would be proud of their diligence.

“I don’t know if you’ve seen the news, but Bruce Wayne gave birth last night.”

“Yeah, I saw that all over Twitter this morning,” Barry said. “What’s that got to do with you?”

Clark didn’t speak for a second, considering how to phrase the next statement. Diana also hesitated on the other end, then spoke: “Are you sure you want to do this, Superman?”

“Yes. I have to. And besides, we know everyone else’s,” Clark responded, nodding to himself. He took a deep breath. “Bruce Wayne is...my husband.” 

He heard a few gasps over the comm. Arthur was the first to speak. 

“You’re married? To a dude?” He asked.

“Yes, and it’s perfectly wonderful,” Diana butted in, immediately jumping unnecessarily to Clark’s defense.

“Woah, no, I wasn’t saying it was bad,” Arthur said. “Just surprising.”

Barry spoke up. “So you’re...Clark Kent, right? That’s the kid’s father, Wayne’s husband.”

“Yes,” Clark said. “You know me as Kal-El, but when I landed on Earth, I was adopted by Jonathan and Martha Kent. I grew up in Kansas.”

“Huh,” Victor said, deciding to contribute as well. “To be honest, I kind of thought you just lived in your fortress of solitude. I didn’t think you had a...life. I’m also surprised.”

“You think that’s surprising?” Clark said. He chuckled at the irony of it. “Well get this...Bruce, my husband, is also Batman.”

The silence this time lasted quite a bit longer, and Diana chose not to interject. Clark let them process the information. After a minute or so, Victor spoke.

“Woah woah woah,” he said. “Okay, you’re joking, right?”

Clark shook his head, then realized that nobody could see him. “I’m not, Victor. Think about it for a second; Wayne Enterprises is a billion-dollar company. How did you think Batman funded all of his tech?”

Arthur jumped in.

“Holy shit...yeah, Vic,” he said. “It actually makes perfect sense when you think about it, especially the part where Superman and Batman are fuck-buddies.”

“Fuck-buddies?!” Diana snarled. “They are  _ married men _ , for  _ several _ years now, and in case you forgot the first portion of this conversation, they just had a  _ child _ together. And he was planned, so I would say they’re more than just  _ fuck-buddies _ .”

“Wait, you knew all of this?” Victor asked. “How did you know this and I didn’t?”

“Bruce, as you should know, despite his facade for the media, is  _ incredibly smart _ . Likely one of the most intelligent, perceptive, and technologically capable men in the world. He figured out how to keep his and my identities a secret from you before he even approached you to be a member of our team.”

“Why?” Victor asked. “Did he not trust us?”

“Of course he didn’t trust us,” Arthur said. “Do you even know the guy?”

“It was initially because of a lack of trust, yes, although that lack had nothing to do with your actions. Bruce simply doesn’t trust anyone until he truly knows them,” Clark answered. “Then, we intended on telling you our identities, but Bruce found out he was pregnant. I tried to say we should still tell you, but he became paranoid that you wouldn’t accept us, or that one of you might accidentally tell our secret and put our child in danger. That’s why he hasn’t been around much for the last 4 months--as soon as he started showing enough that his bump was visible through the batsuit, he stopped coming to meetings in person. It was useless though. It did nothing to protect our family.”

“What do you mean, Clark?” Diana asked. “Bruce, and the baby, are they okay?”

“Also, what is this baby’s name?” Arthur asked. “I feel stupid calling him ‘the baby’ if he has an actual name.”

“Our son’s name is Jonathan Alfred, after Bruce and my father figures,” Clark said, smiling despite himself. “Bruce...well, Jonathan was too strong for his body, and there were complications during the birth. Bruce had to have a minor corrective surgery, so presently he’s recovering and will be alright… but Jonathan…”

The lines were quiet on the other end, until finally, Clark built up enough strength to tell his colleagues.

“He’s been kidnapped,” Clark said solemnly. “They had to monitor him in another room while Bruce slept, and someone… someone just  _ took  _ him.”

Though he couldn’t physically see her, Clark could picture Diana’s face, any sign of happiness or even concern melting away into sheer ferocity at her friends’ loss.

“Who,” she said. It was not a question, it was more of a demand. 

“We don’t know,” Clark said, his voice threatening to crack. “The security tapes at the hospital were pathetic. They show a woman, either a nurse or dressed the part, coming in as we’re leaving, waiting  _ several hours _ for some reason, and then just leaving with him.”

“You didn’t see her face?” Victor asked.

“No,” Clark said. “And the security camera should have gotten her face, but I can’t see who it is because it’s so fuzzy.”

“I know that security,” Victor said. “I’m assuming he’s at Gotham City General? Star Labs collaborated with Queen Industries to develop it. My father worked on it before the Mother Box came into his possession. It’s top notch.”

“So it’s been played with,” Barry said. “That means that Vic…”

“I can get into it,” he said. “And I can try to remove the feed manipulation and run facial recognition on the image.”

“I’d appreciate it,” Clark said. He was struggling to maintain his composure. “I’m going to try and find his...his heartbeat… but if I knew something about who took him, it...well, it would help me a lot. Can you also get Bruce and Alfred each a comm and take them to them? Alfred will meet you outside of the hospital to show you where to go.”

“Got them,” Victor said. “I was already in the Hall. On my way to GCGH. Who’s Alfred?”

“Bruce’s father-figure,” Diana responded. “He is a respectable English gentleman, and a complete delight to interact with. You’ll know who he is when you see him.”

Victor’s line cut out.

“Barry,” Clark said. “Could you make your way to Gotham?”

“Already on it, Supes,” he answered. “Just started so still around eight hundred miles out. Fastest I can go is around Mach Three. Give me half an hour.”

“Okay,” Clark said. “Thank you. Diana…”

“I’m also on my way, Clark. I will be there to help you as soon as I can be.”

“Ditto,” Arthur said.

Clark thanked them profusely. The comms went silent, so Clark flew the rest of the way to Gotham Harbor. He hovered above the water and focused his mind, listening first for the flutter of Bruce’s heart. He easily located it at the hospital, then attempted to find Jon’s, hoping the pattern of the transition from Bruce’s to his baby’s would be most recognizable.

He listened for several minutes before Bruce’s voice came over the comm.

“Clark? Are you okay?” His voice was shaky. 

“Yeah, Bruce,” he replied, breaking focus. “I’m right here. Everything okay?”

“Aside from the obvious.” Now Clark was sure that Bruce was crying. “I cried in front of Victor. I’ve never been more ashamed.”

“Bruce, my love, don’t be. It’ll be something different for the league to see who we really are. I’m sure they’re reeling.”

“Have you found anything?” Bruce asked.

Clark didn’t want to break his heart, but wasn’t going to lie. “As far as I can tell, Jonathan is not in Gotham or Metropolis.”

Bruce didn’t say anything for a second, then came back on crying more clearly: “Keep looking.”

“I promise. I love you, B,” Clark said. He was aware that Barry, Victor, Arthur and Diana could likely hear them, but he didn’t care. 

Neither did Bruce as he responded: “I love you too, Superman.”

Clark swept over both Gotham and Metropolis another time, still unable to locate his son’s heartbeat. Victor came on the comm about 20 minutes after Clark had heard from Bruce.

“I got something, Superman,” he said. “The cameras were interfered with, but I was able to stabilize the film. The nurse that took your son’s name is Mercy Graves… does that name ring a bell?”

Clark unintentionally plummeted about 20 feet, the weight of this development crashing into him.

Bruce was on the line immediately.

“Of  _ fucking course _ it’s Luthor,” he snarled. “Clark, I’m as opposed to killing as you are but…”

“Bruce,” Clark said, calmly. “I’m going to handle this.”

“Lex Luthor?” Victor asked. “He’s in Arkham.”

“Mercy is his assistant, so he could be operating from within the asylum; but when was the last time somebody checked his cell?” Bruce growled. He was incredibly angry, but Clark could still hear the tears in his eyes. “Arkham is a shit show.”

“Bruce is right,” Barry said, joining in. “I’m in Gotham, and I just ran through the Asylum. He’s gone, and nobody seems any the wiser.”

“Oh my  _ fucking _ god,” Bruce cursed. “Jesus, shit, oh my  **_fucking god._ ** ”

“B, you need to breathe,” Clark said. “Alfred, if you’re on, can you please force him to breathe?

“Of course, Master Clark,” Alfred said. 

“Where is everyone?” Clark asked. 

“GCPD,” Barry said. “Reporting Luthor’s escape.”

“I was just over in Midway City,” Diana said. “I’m going as fast as I can. Almost there.”

“Still at GCGH, searching the hospital’s database for a comprehensive list of Luthor’s labs,” Victor said. “My guess is Arthur’s underwater.”

“Okay, yes, probably,” Clark said, thinking. “Victor, can you tell Barry as soon as you find a facility that’s close? And Barry, can you check it out once he does?”

“Yes,” both of them responded.

“I’m going to make a trip to LexCorp,” Clark said. “Someone will talk to me, it just might not be willingly.”

\------

Clark didn’t feel like using the front doors, so he didn’t. He crashed through one of the various bay windows at the top of LexCorp main tower, hoping to land right in Luthor’s old office. 

He succeeded, but found it empty.

_ Figures _ , Clark thought.  _ It’d be kind of idiotic for someone who escaped a mental asylum to return to his own building _ . 

He didn’t linger, pulling the door to Luthor’s office off of its hinges and stalking into the reception area. Mercy was not in her usual spot behind the polished oak desk. Rather, there was a shorter dark haired woman, whom Clark did not recognize.

“S..S..Superman?” She stuttered. Clark suddenly became conscious of the crease in his brow, but couldn’t bring himself to care. He glared daggers into the woman behind the desk.

“Where is Mercy Graves?” He asked, his voice deep and menacing, highly uncharacteristic of Metropolis’ favorite boy scout. The woman behind the desk didn’t answer, so Clark kicked it over.  _ Bruce would be proud _ , he thought as he roared: “WHERE IS SHE?!”

He felt his eyes glow red, anger flaring through him. Involuntarily, his heat vision scorched a hole in the wall behind the woman’s head, who finally threw her hands up in surrender.

“I don’t know where she went!” She yelled. “I swear! But she just walked right out of here last night around eleven, and she didn’t tell me where she was going! She never came in today! Please, I swear!”

Clark felt a sense of guilt in his chest for scaring the receptionist as he had, noticing the vehement tremor in her hands. He took a deep breath. “Thank you, Ma’am.”

He calmly walked back into Luthor’s office, and began looking around.

It was obvious that Mercy had taken up Lex’s position after his arrest, likely remaining in contact with him at Arkham so that they could plot his escape. Her possessions were around the room. Clark walked around examining them for anything, any possible clue.

He returned to the desk and scanned the objects on it. Nothing of note caught his eye, until he glanced at the phone.

Movement. Microscopic movement. 

_ He wouldn’t _ , Clark thought. He raised the phone closer to his face and narrowed his eyes, more consciously channeling his microscopic vision. There, undoubtedly, were nanites, almost exactly the same design as the last ones he had encountered. He scanned the ear piece and, sure enough, he spotted another microscopic needle.

He didn’t need to look any further. He stepped back through the window he had broken.

“Mercy isn’t at LexCorp,” he spoke into his comm. “Receptionist says she walked out last night without a word and never came back. I checked the office. There were Kryptonian nanites covering the phone, and a sharp needle.”

“ _ Brainiac _ ,” Bruce growled over the comm. “That’s sloppy. That’s exactly what he did to me.”

“I know,” Clark responded. “I thought that too, but they can’t be anything else. They look identical.”

“Wait, so Brainy’s done this before?” Barry asked. 

“Yeah,” Bruce said. “A while ago. He planted nanites in my phone at WayneTech, injected me with them and made me build him a spacecraft.”

“I pretended to be Batman and tracked him to Wayne AeroSpace,” Clark finished. “But this time, it doesn’t seem like he wants to escape the planet.”

“Clark…” Bruce said, his voice suddenly cold. “Clark, what if he does want to get off the planet?”

“Jonathan…”

\-----

“I don’t know if it’s possible,” Victor said, looking at Clark. Diana and Arthur had arrived in Gotham, the team deciding to assemble in their civilian identities-- now that nobody had anything to hide-- in a private waiting room at GCGH. Bruce had been disgruntled when Clark insisted he stay in a wheelchair, but once given Clark’s ultimatum, decided the wheelchair was better than staying alone in his room.

“I have access to a lot of software, and having infiltrated the regeneration chamber when we brought you back, I know what sort of tech I’m looking for… but on a global scale? Possibly galactical? I’m not sure.”

“Just start with Earth,” Bruce said. He shifted a little, wincing in pain. Clark made a move to help him, but Bruce shot him a glare. “Even with his tech, it’s only been a few hours. Mercy took Jonathan at 6:13 this morning. It’s…” he glanced at his watch. “10:27. It’s been four.”

“Traveling across Earth’s surface, that’s not enough time to get all that far, even by private plane,” Victor said. “Traveling into orbit? He could be out of the atmosphere, but not much farther.”

“Start with the U.S, then,” Bruce said. “We could sit here and hum and haw about how far he might have gotten while Jonathan is actually two towns over.”

Victor stepped away from the group, raising his hands and projecting data a glowing orange across the wall. It was written in code; a language that nobody but him could understand. They left him to his search.

Barry, Arthur, and Diana began talking about the best way to fight Brainiac once they found him, strategizing the balance of physical strength and wit. Clark wanted to contribute, his knowledge of Brainiac obviously the most adept, but he was distracted by a wincing Bruce.

“B, are you in pain?” He said, pulling a chair up next to Bruce and sitting.

“No,” Bruce said, shifting. Again, he was given away by a wince. Clark raised his eyebrows, and Bruce caved, his eyes filling with tears. “Yes. A lot. Sitting, lying down, standing...all of it hurts, both places.”

Clark laid his hand on Bruce’s cheek. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Arthur glance at them, a small smile on his face. Bruce continued, tears falling.

“It’s so frustrating! I want to be out there looking for him, but I’m in too much pain. But I can’t take any medication, or I might be sluggish.”

“You should take some meds, Bruce,” Clark said softly. “I know it’s scary to not be in the loop, but I can see how much pain you’re in. Your body can’t relax right now, and you need to relax in order to  _ heal _ .”

“But Clark,” Bruce sobbed. “What if you find him? What if you bring him back to me and I can’t even see him?”

“Talk to Leslie, B,” Clark said. “You’re assuming she’s going to hop you up on morphine. You might be just as well taking T3s or Advil or something. It won’t be as strong, but it might take the edge off without knocking you out. I’ve seen you use those for injuries before.”

Bruce nodded, raising his hand to cover Clark’s on his cheek. Clark leaned over and pressed their foreheads together, conscious of and ignoring Barry, Arthur, and Diana who were looking at them.

“I hate that you’re in pain, Bruce,” he whispered. “I hate all of this. I want our son back, and I want you to be able to focus on healing.”

“Me too,” Bruce said. “But until he  _ is _ back, I can’t focus on it. All I can focus on is him.”

Clark nodded, keeping their heads pressed together tenderly. He was appreciative of the quiet moment with Bruce in the middle of all of the chaos. He had heard of other couples in stressful situations like this, turning on and wanting nothing to do with each other. Clark could not relate to them at all. Bruce was keeping him strong, and he liked to think that Clark’s eyes and ears outside the hospital were helping his husband too. But he wanted Jon back more than anything, so even though he had enjoyed his moment with Bruce, it was fairly easy to leave when Victor came back.

“That was actually really easy,” he said. “I was able to breach the interface for the nanites in Mercy’s bloodstream. They were last activated in Star City.”

“Too easy…” Bruce said, looking at Clark with concern-ridden eyes. 

“Easy or not,” Clark said, standing. “Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is welcome and much appreciated! Thanks for stopping by! :)


	5. Heartbeats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clark and the rest of the league leave Bruce behind and head to Star City.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all of your comments. I love love love hearing from readers.
> 
> I hope you enjoy. I've fleshed out the rest of the story and it will be 10 chapters total, so we are halfway done!
> 
> Thank you again to everyone who is reading and enjoying this story.

Leaving Bruce behind had been one of the hardest things Clark had ever had to do. 

He didn’t really need to see the broken look on his husband’s face to know that he didn’t want to stay in Gotham. Clark and Leslie were insistent, but it was ultimately Martha who convinced him to stay.

Bruce had gotten out of bed  _ again _ , taken two steps and then, to Clark’s absolute horror, he had fallen. Luckily, none of his stitches ripped, but Bruce ended up a mess in Clark’s arms.

“I need to come with you, Clark,” he sobbed. “I need to be there when you find him…”

“You need to get better, Bruce,” Martha had said, calmly. “You need the surgical wound on your stomach to heal, and your body to recover from the last 48 hours.”

“I don’t care about me!” Bruce had yelled. “I don’t give a shit about me if it means I can save my son. I’ve patrolled in worse condition than this!”

“This is not a patrol!” Martha had yelled back. Clark and Bruce had both looked at her, completely and utterly shocked. “This is more serious than that! There is much more at stake here, and you need to  _ heal _ dammit, not for yourself, but for your son!”

Clark had winced, expecting Bruce to blow up in his mother’s face, but he didn’t. He wrapped his arms around Clark’s neck and let him carry him back to bed. Bruce hadn’t said anything before they left, his head on the pillow, eyes closed and overflowing with tears. 

Clark was sure Bruce had cried more in the last day than he had in his entire life. The sight was unfamiliar to Clark and he had to admit he would likely never get used to it. He knew it was the hormones, but it was still unnerving. 

Clark kissed his husband when they left, and Bruce returned it with a severity that said way more than words ever could have.

\------

“Originally I wanted you to stay back, Victor,” Clark said. “But I’m glad you enlightened me to your flight skills…”

Traveling from Gotham to the west coast would have taken over five hours in a regular aircraft, but Victor had merged with the jet’s interface and made some adjustments. They were now traveling at Mach Five, almost four thousand miles per hour, which was about a thousand faster than Barry could run and Clark could fly. They would reach Star City in under an hour. 

“Do we have a plan for this?” Arthur asked. “How are we going to rescue the kid? Do we know what Brainiac wants with him?”

“Bruce said that whoever took him likely wanted to experiment on him,” Clark said. “I’m the only Kryptonian, right? But now Jonathan has Kryptonian blood.” 

“And a baby is a lot easier to get your hands on than Superman,” Victor said, nodding.

“Exactly,” Clark said. “And I imagine that Brainiac was unaware that I could even reproduce with a human… I suspect that, as with the majority of his endeavors, he’s trying to gain information from this situation.”

“Brainiac’s track record suggests that he’ll want to experiment on Jonathan, then leave Earth in ruins,” Diana said. 

“I have a feeling it might be a little more complicated than that…” Clark said. He paused, removed his earpiece, and gestured for the rest of the league to do the same.

“I have a hunch,” Clark said. “But I don’t want Bruce to hear. He has enough on his plate, and this will just worry him more.”

“You think he wants you, don’t you,” Diana said, staring solemnly at Clark.

“Like I said, I don’t think he knew that I could successfully reproduce with humans,” Clark said, nodding. “Brainiac originally came to Krypton from another planet. According to the fortress database, a plague wiped out the population of his planet while he was serving the council.”

“So, you think he might want you to  _ repopulate _ his planet…” Barry said, shuddering.

“Yes,” Clark said. “It’s not a pleasant thought, but it would make sense. If that’s the case, he’s killing two birds with one stone by kidnapping Jonathan.”

“Experiment on the kid while using him as bait for you,” Arthur said. “Fucking nutcase.”

“Brainiac’s home planet is under a yellow sun as well. In choosing me as the ‘father’ of his new race, he guarantees that the people he governs are physically powerful. He could raise a planet of warriors, and will be in command of all of them.”

“That’s twisted,” Barry said. “He wants to rebuild a planet so that he can  _ rule  _ it?”

Clark nodded.

“Arthur hit the nail on the head. He’s over the top, but he’s also very powerful; powerful enough that, despite Jonathan’s growing invulnerability, he’ll be able to destroy him,” Clark swallowed. “Easily.”

Victor stepped forward and, in a moment of solidarity, laid a metallic hand on Clark’s shoulder.

“That’s not going to happen, Superman. We’re going to find Brainiac, and we’re going to save your son.”

\-------

They spent the remainder of the flight exhausting some of the possible scenarios they might find when they landed.

Ideally, they would have had a plan when they stepped off of the jet in Star City, but seeing as they had no idea what they were about to find, they couldn’t exactly decide on a single course of action. 

They had, however, prepared many possible courses of action, and Clark was feeling more determined than ever as he took to the sky to search for his son’s heartbeat.

Before he began to search, he asked Bruce to talk to him on the comm. His husband was apparently waiting to hear from him.

“Are you there? Have you found him?” Bruce asked, frantically.

“We are here, I haven’t looked yet. I’m about to.”

“Keep me posted, Clark,” Bruce said.

The team had resumed talking about potential plans as soon as Clark was airborne, and as much as he wanted to listen in, he forced himself to shut everything out. He expanded his hearing range across the city, sifting through the sounds as they flooded his head. Street by street, he isolated the buildings in groups of 3 or 4.

He swept through the entire city, but could not isolate Jonathan’s heartbeat. He took a deep breath and got on the comm again.

“Bruce, I couldn’t hear him,” he said.

“Listen to mine,” Bruce said. “You can expand your hearing that far, you’ve done farther before. I know it’s really hard, but it’s  _ my _ heartbeat. How many times have you listened to it? Come back to me in Gotham with your ears and listen to my heartbeat now. I know you know the transition between mine and his, his and mine.”

Clark did as Bruce suggested. Expanding from coast to coast  _ was  _ difficult, and required immense concentration. He had taken a moment on the ship to try listening to Star City, to see if he could find Jonathan’s heartbeat, but unfamiliar with the territory and distracted by the team’s banter, he had been unsuccessful. As he was trying to reach Bruce, he was once again distracted by their chatter. Bruce, evidently, knew that.

“I can hear you talking on the goddamn comm, Curry,” Bruce said. “Shut it so Clark can focus.”

Clark heard Alfred and his mother’s voices in the background scolding Bruce for snapping at Arthur. He turned the volume on the comm off but kept the mic on. He was aware of the silence between his teammates now. Admittedly, reducing the noise in his vicinity helped him.

After a few minutes of concentration, Clark could hear Bruce’s heartbeat. 

“I’ve got you,” Clark said, breathing in deeply as he listened to the slightly elevated heart rate of his husband. “I’ve got it, Bruce.”

“I knew you could do it,” Bruce whispered. Clark’s volume was not turned up on his comm, but he heard him anyway. “And I know that you can find our son. I love you.”

Clark felt a surge of affection in his chest, and his voice cracked as he responded: “I love you too.”

He listened to several beats of Bruce’s heart, then as rapidly as he could, reduced his range back to its focus on Star City.

It worked. Moments later, he had found and isolated his son’s heartbeat. It was slower than he had ever heard it, and a slight expansion of his range introduced the sickening sound of Jonathan’s cries. This sent a rush of fear through his body. 

“I’ve got him Bruce,” Clark said, rapidly switching his volume back on and flying down to where the league was waiting. “He’s alive, but he’s crying so hard.”

“I knew you could do it,” Bruce said, his voice dripping with relief. He was obviously holding back tears. “Now go get him.”

The entire league turned off their comms as Superman explained what he had done. Diana was visibly touched by the revelation that Clark only understood Jon’s heartbeat if it was contiguous to Bruce’s, but they did not have time to dwell.

“He’s about twenty blocks away. The building, I believe, belongs to Kord Industries.”

“Makes sense,” Victor said, nodding. “Kord is well-known for its advancements in technology. They moved out of Star City just under a year ago. Kord still owns the property, so if he left any technology behind, it gives Brainiac some  _ equipment _ .”

“Let’s go,” Diana said.

\-----

It only took them seconds to arrive at the building. It was large and constructed primarily of concrete and glass windows. A barbed-wire fence surrounded the property.

“The building has an underground laboratory,” Victor said.

“I see that,” Clark said. He had two fingers pressed to his temple, and the league deduced that he was looking through the walls, searching for Jonathan. “And I see Luthor and Mercy. They’re just standing there… Brainiac is in another room, but I can’t tell what he’s doing from here, and I can’t find Jon.”

He let his hand fall to his side again and focused on his hearing. He could more easily isolate Jon’s heartbeat now, as he was positive he was in the building somewhere.

“They probably have a lead lined room,” Victor said. “I know at one point, technicians here were working with Kryptonite. Luthor’s medical scare encouraged other companies to smarten up with their storage. You can hear him, but you can’t see him.”   
  


Clark’s face had fallen, his skin turning a pale color.

“That’s why his heart rate is slow, and further explains the crying,” he murmured. “He’s in a room with Kryptonite…” Clark couldn’t help the anger that was flaring in his gut. It was burning hot behind his eyes as it had at LexCorp. “He’s torturing my infant son!”

Without thinking, Clark burned a hole in the side of the fence surrounding the building and took off through it. 

The security, unfortunately, was more complex than a simple fence, and evidently still active. Clark was sent flying back toward the others, a jolt of power from an invisible electric fence stopping him in his tracks.

“Superman!” Diana yelled, stepping toward him. He stood back up, gesturing for her to leave him.

“I’m fine,” he said, more sharply than Diana deserved. “How the hell are we going to get in, though?”

“I can phase through it,” Barry said. 

“What?” Victor and Arthur said in unison.

“I can vibrate the molecules of my body at an atomic level, which gives me the ability to pass through solid objects,” Barry said. “It’s something I’ve recently discovered.”

He took a deep breath and then, without another word, ran  _ straight through _ the hole in the fence.

“Turn your comm on!” Clark yelled. Barry did.

“What’s the plan now?” Barry asked. “I’d phase all of you in, but I’m not good enough at it yet.”

“No, no phasing anyone else,” Clark said. “I see the control room. You have to run to it and disable the security systems, but you have to be damn careful because Luthor and Mercy are two rooms over. Can you do that?”

“I can try,” Barry said. 

\------

Getting Barry to the controls was not a problem, but disabling the security was a lengthy process. It required quite a bit of communication between him and Victor, while Clark kept an eye on Luthor, Mercy, and Brainiac.

Just as Clark was about to say something into the comm, Barry cheered.

“I got it! It’s down. Get in here!”

Clark would have rejoiced, and would have celebrated alongside Barry, but Barry’s cheer had alerted the others that he was there. They had taken off running, and Luthor was basically right outside of the control room.

“Flash, get out of there,” he said sharply. “Now. Get out.”

“What? You’re supposed to be coming in here.”

“Get out, Barry!”

“I don’t understand….”

Clark wrapped Arthur, Diana, and Victor in his arms and ran them through the fence just as Luthor opened the door to the control room.

“That was fa-  _ hey! _ ” 

Barry’s comm cut out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is welcome, and very much appreciated! Thanks for stopping by!


	6. Take Me Instead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The league splits up; Clark and Diana go searching for Jon, and Arthur and Victor try to find Barry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At this point, I'm just making everything that can go wrong go wrong because why not lol
> 
> I hope you're still enjoying this. I've been publishing some other one shots in between chapters of this because though I am enjoying this series, I still have lots of ideas. I appreciate all of your support and comments.

“So now we have two people to rescue,” Arthur said as Clark put him back on the ground. “That’s just fucking great.”

“Barry?” Diana was saying into the comm. Her voice was slightly frantic; she was someone who cared fiercely for other people, and when her friends were in danger, it was very difficult for her to overcome. “Barry, can you hear me?”

Arthur laid his hand on Diana’s shoulder. “I don’t think he’s going to answer, Princess,” he said, his face softening. 

Clark was looking off toward the building, his fingers pressed to his temple again. 

“Luthor took Barry out of the communications room,” he said. “It looks like he’s knocked him unconscious, and he likely disabled his comm as well. Brainiac is still busy, but Mercy is gone. I can’t find her.”

“She might be in the same room as Jonathan,” Victor suggested. “If there was an invasion, they would likely want to keep an eye on their hostage.”

Clark extended his hearing out into the lab, locating his son and listening to his surroundings.

“He’s still crying,” he said, solemnly. “His heartbeat is still faint. Victor’s right. I can hear footsteps pacing, so Mercy must be in there with him.”

“At least she’s not hurting him,” Diana said.

“Not yet,” Clark said, running his hands through his hair. “I need to get to him as soon as possible. The situation could evolve very quickly into something much worse.”

“We can’t just leave Barry,” Arthur said. “We need to find him too.”

Clark nodded, and Diana piped up.

“Clark and I can go after the baby,” she said. “Arthur and Victor, you can go after Barry.”

They all looked at one another, and when nobody protested, Clark scanned the building again. 

“Victor, do you remember how I told Barry to get to the communications room?”

“Yes,” he said. “Is he still close by?”

“Three rooms down on the right side of the hallway. Luthor is there with him, so be careful. He’s armed; a large gun loaded with god knows what.”

“Got it,” Victor said, looking at Arthur. “Let’s go.”

Clark watched them walk away before turning to Diana.

“I can’t see the room that he’s in. I can’t even see the outside, so you and I are going to have to walk through the building until I see a door in front of me, but no room behind it. That’s where he’ll be.”

“We’re going to have to be careful,” Diana said, nodding. “If we alert Brainiac or Luthor of our arrival, we’ll be in trouble. We’ll have to handle Mercy when we get there.”

“I know,” Clark said. “What’s worse is I have a feeling that Jonathan might be very close to where Brainiac is working; somewhere in the basement. If that’s the case…”

“We’ll stop him,” Diana said. Clark looked back at her, his eyes full of sincerity and solemnity. 

“No,” Clark said. “We won’t fight. He gives a single command to Mercy’s nanites and Jonathan is in serious danger.”

Diana looked taken aback.

“What are we going to do then?”

Clark furrowed his brow and started walking toward the building. He could hear Diana behind him.

“Clark?”

“We’ll propose a trade,” he said. “Jon’s life for mine.”

\-----

Arthur and Victor crept along a dark hallway. Victor had hardly said a thing since they left Clark and Diana behind, but Arthur had been talking quietly and almost constantly. He continuously made snarky remarks about the lack of decor, questioned why Barry hadn’t just ran as soon as Clark said to do so, and mumbled about the absurdity of stealing a baby in the first place.

Neither was particularly concerned that they wouldn’t be able to handle Luthor if it came down simply to hand to hand combat; he wasn’t very built, and though he was incredibly intelligent, he also wasn’t in his right mind. It was the technology that Luthor possessed that concerned them.

Clark was correct in saying that Luthor’s gun could be anything. Luthor alone had possessed many extravagant weapons before he was imprisoned; he was nothing if not a genius, so most of what he wielded was his own invention.

Brainiac, too, had access to an excess of dangerous weapons, given his extensive knowledge of not only Krypton, but every other planet he had consumed and then destroyed. He was smarter than Luthor, and if he could blow up a planet, it was almost certain he could take out a few superheroes.

Victor had his own tech, but he was still unsure of how to control all of it. Besides, any attack that involved electricity could short-circuit his system and render him useless. Arthur was great in hand to hand combat, the trident giving him an advantage; but it wasn’t bulletproof, and neither was he.

They were going to have to be stealthy, and extremely careful.

Eventually, Victor motioned for Arthur to stop walking, a few steps away from a ‘T’ in the corridor. He held up his hand, and from the center of his metal palm snaked a long silver camera-tipped wire. Silently, it moved until it had reached the corner, and turned its tip to look down the hallway. 

“Luthor must be in the room,” he whispered to Arthur, who nodded in response. “I can’t see him out in the hallway… we have to be quiet, so you have to shut up now.”

“I haven’t been...” Arthur whispered back. “Whatever...Let’s just keep moving.”

They crept around the corner, trying desperately to keep their footfalls quiet. They couldn’t hear anything coming from any of the rooms, which made it harder to determine which one they needed.

They came across several closed doors, until finally they reached the one that Victor was sure was the communications room. Of course, he had hoped the door would simply be open so he could be absolutely certain, but it wasn’t. It was closed and locked.

“I think this is where he was knocked out,” he whispered very quietly. “But I don’t know for sure.”

Arthur looked at him skeptically, then focused on the door. He raised his hand and pointed at a small droplet of red on the frame.

“This is it,” he said. “I’ll bet that’s Barry’s.”

Victor nodded solemnly, then gestured for them to continue on. They walked slowly and quietly, waiting to hear something. There were no sounds, but once they had reached it, a bright light was shining through incredibly small cracks around the door. Clark had given them precise directions; Barry was in the third room on the right.

Victor examined the control panel next to the door with confusion. 

“This isn’t a room,” he whispered. “This is a vault. I can get into it, but we have to keep that door open, or we won’t be able to get out.”

He looked at Arthur, who nodded, stepped back, and raised his trident offensively. He pressed his hand against the security panel on the wall. More small metal wires erupted from his palm, this time shattering the screen on the panel to access the technology within. Victor closed his eyes and focused on opening the door. Moments later, there was a loud click and a rumble as it swung out.

It was fortunate that Arthur was already prepared to fight. As soon as the door was open enough for them to see anything, Luthor was at the entrance and firing the gun.

Both Victor and Arthur knew immediately that the ammunition Luthor was shooting was not commercially available. The bullets almost looked like they were aglow with electricity, but it was a nauseating purple, rather than the typical vibrant white of a regular charge.

Arthur ducked and dodged the first few shots, until Victor stepped in front as well. The hallway was wide, and though Luthor tried to avoid it, they soon had him cornered in a triangular stand off. 

Luthor looked frantically between the two of them, ultimately deciding to continue fighting Arthur. He turned on him, firing continuously. Arthur managed to dodge most of the bullets, but one of them hit him in the shoulder, and he crumbled in pain. 

Victor’s arm morphed into a heavy steel rod, and he quickly attacked from Luthor’s other side, coming only close enough that he could hit him in the back of his head. A sickening crunch, and Luthor went down too.

Victor’s arm shifted back to its usual form, and he ran to Arthur’s side.

“Aquaman!” he said loudly, flipping him onto his back. When he did, he saw a large purple welt with strange veins branching off of it. 

“Fucking asshole,” Arthur moaned suddenly, pushing himself up to a sitting position. Victor sighed and chuckled.

“You’re okay?” he asked.

“I think so,” Arthur said, looking down at his arm. “How’s Barry?” 

Victor pulled Arthur to his feet, and turned toward the door.

It was a large room, no windows and barely any light. There was surprisingly a lack of equipment inside as well, just a simple silver table and slotted compartments in the wall. They could only assume had once served as a sort of top secret storage area.

Now, it served as a stronghold for Barry’s body.

Arthur ran immediately to Barry’s side, pressing his fingers into his neck. Barry’s eyes and upper lip were swollen and discolored, obviously having been Luthor’s target. Blood had been gushing from his nose as well, as it was dried and sticky on his cheeks, chin, and the upper part of his suit.

“He’s got a pulse,” Arthur said. “Weaker than usual, but strong enough. He’s breathing too.” He gestured to the rise and fall of Barry’s chest. “We should get him out of here though.”

Victor opened his mouth to agree, but shut it when he noticed Luthor standing just outside. He was about to make his way toward him, when Luthor suddenly and wordlessly closed the door. Victor heard the loud rumble and click as the door was locked again, and began to bang helplessly on the metal.

“Shit!” he yelled. He pressed his hands up against the door, trying to somehow infiltrate the system or break his way through, but he was unsuccessful.

“Are we trapped in here?” Arthur asked, glaring at Victor.

“I’ll try to get us out,” he replied, looking around the room. “I infiltrated the outer lock, but there isn't one inside.”

“What about Barry?” Arthur asked, looking at their unconscious teammate.

“He heals abnormally fast,” Victor said, beginning to circle the outside of the room, pressing his hands into the wall. “He’ll likely regain consciousness on his own if his vitals are still okay. And Luthor is gone now, which means we need to focus on just getting us out of here. Barry can do the rest for himself.”

Arthur nodded, then began scouring the room too, looking for any sign of potentially helpful technology. After a few moments, he evidently decided he had had enough of looking, and began ramming into the thick metal door, trying to break it down.

“You’re strong, Arthur,” Victor said, sighing. “But you’re not Superman strong.”

“Can we call him?” Arthur asked. “He would probably come up here and let us out.”

“Of course he would,” Victor said, flicking his comm on.

“Superman?”

He waited a few moments, but heard nothing. 

“Cyborg to Superman, do you copy?”

Still nothing.

“Cyborg to Wonder Woman, do you copy?”

When he did not receive a response from Diana either, he sighed. He looked at Arthur, then at Barry, then at the door. Then he spoke again.

“Cyborg to Batman, do you copy?”

\-----

When they first entered the building, Clark primarily relied on the sound of Jonathan’s cries to lead their way. Once they had walked a while without any change in the volume or clarity of the sound, they began to look more closely. 

He and Diana were in constant communication. Diana was focusing on showing Clark where the doors were, and Clark was using his x-ray vision to see behind them. Thus far, they had only come into contact with doors where there were visible rooms behind them, meaning they hadn’t yet found the lead lined room.

When they were very near the basement where Clark knew Brainiac was working, Diana stopped him suddenly.

“I hear him,” she said. “I can hear Jonathan.”

Clark reduced the focus of his hearing to a more ordinary range, and realized that she was correct. He looked through the walls with his vision, and saw Brainiac working.

“We’re going to have to go through Brainiac," Clark said. "Remember what I said. I don’t want to fight him, or he might hurt Jonathan. I will surrender, and you can get my son out of here.”

Diana looked worried as she nodded her head. The door to Brainiac’s room was open, much to Diana’s confusion. However, Clark had somewhat expected it. It just further confirmed his theory that Brainiac was really after him. He was  _ inviting _ him in.

They approached the room cautiously. Clark peeked around the door and saw that he had been correct. There was a door, but he could not see the room behind it, which meant it was lined with lead. 

Brainiac’s back was to the door, and now that he was closer, Clark could see he was welding something. He tried to distinguish what it was based on the pieces around him, but he couldn't tell. It was a long pole of sorts with metal protrusions on the end, but it didn't look familiar.

Before Diana could stop him, Clark stepped into the room.

“Brainiac,” he said, fiercely. He crossed his arms. “Where is my son?”

“Hello, Kal-El,” he said, turning toward him. “His current location is no longer your concern.”

“Not my concern?” Clark barked, raising an eyebrow. “The hell it’s not. He’s _my_ _son._ My infant child, and I’m taking him back.”

“I need him,” Brainiac stated, matter-of-factly. “I believe he is of more use to me than he is to you and Batman.”

Clark’s eyes glowed red with anger again, but he took a deep breath and blinked his fury back. 

“My son is not an object to be  _ used _ , Brainiac,” he growled. “He is not disposable, or replaceable.”

“I recognize that, Kal-El,” Brainiac said. “But you must understand my mission, and that I am very limited in my options for repopulating Colu.”

“Take me instead, I’ll do what you want, without protest, Brainiac. Just don’t hurt my son…” 

“Or you could just choose to do the humane thing,” Diana said, stepping up next to Clark. “And suppress your reckless need for absolute power.”

“Diana…” Clark said, glowering at her. She was completely ignoring what he had said, about abandoning the fight.

“Welcome, Princess Diana of Themyscira. It is an honor to meet an Amazon, such as yourself. Amazons are a species I know very little about; it's convenient of you to present yourself as a specimen.”

“I will  _ never _ submit to you, or anyone.” 

Before Clark could say anything, Diana unsheathed her sword and launched forward. Brainiac moved quickly, turning on the spot and raising both hands. One of them collided with Diana’s sword, stopping the blade in its tracks. The other wrapped around her neck, choking her. 

The sword clattered to the floor, and Clark watched in horror as Brainiac reached for the mysterious object on the table. He could see now that it was like a charged mace; its emmitance looked like electricity, but glowed a vibrant purple instead of white hot. He recognized that energy.

“NO!” Clark yelled, launching forward as Brainiac drove the rod into Diana’s side. Clark saw spokes pierce her skin and she became silent and almost completely limp in Brainiac’s grasp.

“Diana!” Clark screamed, latching onto Brainiac like a manic child. “What did you do to her?!” He was throwing punches absentmindedly, struggling to focus on his target while Diana’s limp body fell to the floor. He knocked the rod out of his hand, but could not entirely gain the upper hand.

“You do remember, Kal-El, before you destroyed me and my ship, the waves of psionic energy I could produce that weakened you.”

Clark said nothing, continuing to throw punches that were getting him nowhere, Brainiac's hands like a vice on his shoulders.

“Well, when I rebuilt myself from nothing in the wake of your destructive path, I found that I could no longer accurately project this energy. It flowed out of me sporadically, so I began to manipulate my own ability, harness it, contain it in various types of weaponry; bullets, ray guns, and my personal favorite, the energy mace. Now, the blast is localized and  _ excruciating _ .”

Clark was pushing against Brainiac’s full body weight with his arms, face to face with his long-time enemy. Wanting to get to Diana, he reared back and slammed his head into Brainiac’s. He went flying across the room and collapsed into the metal door. It bent on contact, but did not break. 

Clark took advantage of Brainiac’s moment of weakness to check on Diana. He was relieved to see she was stirring, but she had a large, spreading purple welt on her ribs, visible behind the large tear in her uniform.

“Diana…” he started to say, but he was interrupted by Brainiac tackling him, rolling him across the cold floor and into the opposite wall. The impact shook Clark, but did not knock him out. 

Brainiac quickly overpowered Clark, pressing him into the wall with his forearm and spitting in his face. 

“Kal-El,” he said, in his characteristic monotone drawl. “You are unworthy of the information you hold. You are unworthy of possessing the gift that I have stolen from you. You have always been unworthy of your name and title as the Last Son of Krypton.”

Clark watched as Diana sat up, her hands clutching at her side where the mace had pierced. She silently rose to her feet, and met Clark’s gaze.

He purposefully eyed the mace that had fallen only feet from her body. She picked it up and approached Brainiac cautiously. Clark had thought, watching her step forward with the intention of driving the rod through Brainiac’s back, that she had successfully snuck up on their enemy, and that it would be over.

He was wrong. At the very last second, Brainiac dodged her blow and watched with satisfaction as Diana followed through with her swing and accidentally drove the weapon right into Clark’s stomach.

He slid down the wall, pain roaring wildly through his body. It was unlike anything he had felt before; so severe, he had to fight for consciousness. He couldn’t focus much, but he could hear Diana’s panicked cries now mixed with those of his son, and though it was blurry, he was certain that Brainiac had managed to hit Diana with the energy mace again.

Her limp body was the last thing he saw before he lost consciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is very much appreciated! Thanks for stopping by.


	7. Batman Has Joined the Chat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor calls on Bruce, and Alfred has an idea. Clark and Diana wake up and make a deal with Brainiac.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Seven. I hope you enjoy.
> 
> Thank you for all of your comments. I love reading them. :)

The comm wasn’t in Bruce’s ear the first few times it went off, but he could hear Victor’s muffled voice from the bedside table. Unfortunately, there was a nurse in his room so he couldn’t answer without looking highly suspicious.

As soon as the room was vacant again, he reached painfully for the device.

“Victor?” He asked, adjusting the earpiece. “Victor, did you say something?”

“Batman!” he said. “Bruce, we have a problem.”

“Is Clark okay?” he asked immediately. 

“He and Diana are searching for Jonathan right now, so we are not together,” Victor said. “They’re not answering their comms, which could be good or bad. We all tried to get into the building together, but there was an electric fence. Barry phased through it and disabled the security systems, but Luthor figured out he was there and knocked him out.”

“Shit,” Bruce said.

“We found him, though,” Victor continued. “Arthur and I have him right here in...a sort of vault. The only problem is, we thought we had incapacitated Luthor, but we hadn’t. We were checking Barry’s body to make sure he was alive when Luthor stood up again. He didn’t try to fight, he just shut the door. It’s really high security, apparently, so we’re locked in.”

“Shit,” Bruce repeated, leaning his head back against the pillow. “Brainiac probably configured the nanites with an emergency protocol…what to do if they were threatened. Isolate the trespassers for questioning.”

“Yeah, that would make sense,” Victor said. “We’ve looked all around the room, but can’t locate a switch or system or anything that I could manipulate into letting us out. Like I said, I think it’s a vault of some sort, so there’s no control panel inside.”

“Okay,” Bruce nodded to himself. “Okay, I’ll figure something out.”

“Don’t hurt yourself, Batman,” Victor said. “Is there someone you can call to fill in for you?”

“Keep trying to find something,” Bruce said. “Try to get  _ into _ the walls. There may be internal wiring that could be manipulated.”

“Got it,” Victor said. “They’re concrete, so it’s not likely, but we’ll keep you posted.”

“Likewise,” Bruce said. He pulled the earpiece out and returned it to the bedside table. “Alfred, did you hear that?”

Martha and Alfred had stepped out into the hall when the nurse had come in, but returned when Bruce called.

“Yes, I did, Master Bruce,” Alfred said, nodding. “And I was thinking. It never occurred to me before, but perhaps there is someone we could call…”

“Who?” Bruce said, looking inquisitive. “Everyone’s already helping out, except for me, but all of you have said that I’m  _ unfit _ to go out.”

“Then perhaps we should make it so that you are more  _ fit _ ,” Alfred said, raising an eyebrow. “I do believe that Jason Blood has some materials and a skill set that may be of use to you.”

Bruce gaped at Alfred for a moment, baffled that he hadn’t thought of calling Jason Blood himself.

“Fuck, Alfred!” Bruce said. “Why didn’t we think of this before they left? Of course we should call Blood! If he can heal…” he gestured to his abdomen. “...this, then I would be able to help, and Leslie couldn’t protest.”

“Shall I contact him?” Alfred asked.

“Please,” Bruce said. “Tell him everything. Tell him I really need him.”

\-----

After hearing Bruce’s predicament, Jason Blood agreed to come and see what he could do. He was, conveniently, simply at his home in Gotham, so it took him less than twenty minutes to arrive in Bruce’s room.

Cautiously, Jason asked for Alfred and Martha to leave the room. They agreed, Martha still thoroughly confused as to what the mysterious man was going to do to Bruce. Jason liked to keep things fairly low key given the value and subsequent danger of his abilities; Martha’s confusion would, unfortunately, go unresolved.

“It’s going to be painful,” he said to Bruce as soon as Martha and Alfred were gone. “Lacerations are relatively easy to heal...deeper wounds, such as those left behind during surgical procedures, are much harder.”

“I can take it,” Bruce said. “I guarantee it won’t hurt as much as what I’ve just been through.”

Jason nodded and withdrew a small bottle from his bag. Bruce felt as though he was in a cartoon, moments from being prodded by a supernatural doctor. He supposed, in a way, that was a fairly accurate representation of the circumstances. 

Bruce shifted his blankets and hospital gown so that only his bandages were visible, then slowly peeled them back to reveal a deep, purpling wound with black sutures. He winced at the pull of the fabric, then turned to Jason, who had uncorked the bottle.

Mumbling some sort of incantation, Jason tipped the bottle and shook gently so that a white powder fluttered down and coated Bruce’s wound.

He had been right; it wasn’t as painful as childbirth had been, but Bruce bit back a yelp as the powder soaked in.  _ It was damn close _ .

He breathed deeply, watching as his bruised and bloodied skin returned to more pallid color. The sensation was burning, but it slowly became less prominent until it had almost faded entirely, the process leaving nothing but a thick, pink, fleshy scar near the base of Bruce’s abdomen. He could feel it was very tender, but it was so much better than it had been.

“Jason…” Bruce whispered. “I...thank you…”

“I’m afraid,” Jason frowned. “That the wound will still be painful for a while. It will make it possible for you to rescue your son, but it will not be easy. Furthermore, I fear that there is nothing I can do for your...other symptoms.”

Bruce couldn’t help the blush that crept over his cheeks. “That’s fine, Jason. I’ll manage. This is more than enough. Thank you.”

“It was nothing. You’ve helped me before; consider this returning the favor.”

Jason packed up his bag and left, recognizing that Bruce was eager to be on his way. Alfred and Martha came in moments later to find Bruce on his feet and half-dressed.

“Bruce!” Martha said, startled. “What are you doing?”

She ran to his side, but he put a hand up to stop her. He finished buttoning his pants before removing his hospital gown and revealing the fleshy scar. Both Martha and Alfred gasped.

“You can’t stop me now,” Bruce said. “I’m sorry. I need to go to Star City. I need to make sure Clark is okay, and find Jonathan.”

“Are you sure, Bruce?” Martha asked, solemnly. “Even if it’s mostly healed, you still risk postpartum bleeding and…”

“Martha,” Bruce said, seriously. “I’m sorry, but I have the chance to go and help my husband and son. And Alfred probably didn’t mention it, but Clark and Diana have gone radio silent...they could be in danger.”

Martha shot Alfred a disapproving look. 

“No he didn’t,” she said. “But the rest of your team is there, Bruce. Do you really have to be the one to go?”

“They’re there,” Bruce said. “But they’ve gotten themselves locked in a vault that they cannot escape.  _ Of fucking course _ .”

He muttered the last sentence under his breath, trying not to snort in derision.

“So, yes,” he continued. “I do have to be the one to go. I’m still sore, that’s for sure, but I can handle it.”

He looked at Alfred, hoping for some support but half expecting him to question him too.

Alfred’s expression, however, shifted to one of determination.

“Shall I ready the jet, Master Bruce?”

Bruce smiled slightly, then nodded, pulling a shirt over his head and stepping to Martha. He laid a hand on her shoulder and held back tears that threatened to spill. 

“Thank you, Martha,” he said. “For keeping me calm and reminding me what my priorities should be.”

“Bruce,” Martha said, smiling gently. “You’re just as much my son as Clark is, now.”

Bruce nodded and began to follow Alfred out the door, but Martha grabbed his shoulder.

“That means I’m coming with you,” she said, without a hint of fear in her voice. “Let’s go and kick that creep’s robotic ass,” she added, blushing slightly.

“Believe me,” Bruce responded, smiling warmly at his mother-in-law. “We will.”

\-----

Clark’s ears were ringing when he came to. A bright red light was shining through his eyelids, obnoxious enough that he was dreading opening his eyes.

The dread only increased when he realized he had been knocked out. The closer he came to full consciousness, the more he noticed that his body  _ ached _ , something he was not familiar with.

Specifically, there was an intense and throbbing pain in his stomach, and he recalled that it had been caused by Brainiac’s mace...that Diana had accidentally stabbed him with.

_ Diana _ . Clark thought. He willed himself to ignore the pain and focus on his other senses. He kept his eyes shut against the light as he blocked out the ringing and tried to focus on what he could hear. A heartbeat, likely Diana’s next to him. 

So, she was alive. That was good.

Another heartbeat.  _ Jon’s _ . 

Clark’s heart lurched as the sound of his son’s frantic wailing infiltrated his ears as well. It was close by, so Clark willed his eyes to open despite the piercing light. As he did, he heard footsteps retreating from the room. Mercy was going to inform Brainiac he was waking up.

He blinked rapidly, trying desperately to focus on the room. It took a minute or two to come into focus, but once he did he realized that Jonathan was in the same room as him.  _ Six feet away _ .

His first reaction was to yell and scream, thrash at his confines and get to his son; but he could feel that he was weak, so instead, he focused on assessing their situation and considering potential ways to get out of it. 

He had metal cuffs around his wrists and ankles, his body suspended a few feet above the ground. The light was the result of what appeared to be a red sun lamp, inhibiting his powers and increasing the effect of the Green K he could see sitting idly in the corner of the room.

Jon was still wearing the black onesie that he had been in the hospital, but his cap had been removed. Clark could see soft black curls, messy from his squirming and crying. His eyes were open as well, though he looked more exhausted than Clark had ever seen a baby look. He likely hadn’t slept all day, which for a newborn, was like the equivalent of staying awake for a week.

Clark wanted to cry; he wanted to scream. He wanted nothing more than to run to his son and hold him close. He wished he could at least explain to him what had happened, reassure him that his parents loved him and didn’t mean to leave him. 

He remembered what Leslie said about Jon knowing his voice, touch, and smell. The last two he couldn’t provide, but he hoped the first might help.

“Hey, baby boy,” Clark said, his voice cracking slightly. He cleared his throat, wincing as the shift sent a pain through his lungs. “Hi, Jonathan. It’s your Dad, baby. Do you recognize my voice?”

Jonathan was still crying, but he was shifting as well, his movements incredibly stiff but indication enough that he knew someone was there.

“It’s your Dad, Jonathan. I’m here and I love you so much, so so much. And your Daddy...he wanted to come after you too but he couldn’t...I told him...I promised…”

Clark hung his head, his eyes unwillingly filling with tears.

“I’m so sorry, Jon,” he cried. “I’m so sorry. I’ve failed you already, I’ve failed as a father. How could I let this happen to you?”

“It wasn’t your fault,” said a weak voice beside Clark. Diana had opened her eyes. She was obviously in pain as well, her eyes red and swollen. “Clark, I…”

“It was an accident, Diana,” Clark sniffled. “He’s not human...he’s unpredictable, not to mention crazy.”

“Why is the light so bright?” She asked. “Is it a red sun lamp?”

“Yes,” Clark said, picking his head up. “It’s rendered me powerless, so I can’t break out of it to get to Jon…”

Clark realized suddenly that Jon was no longer crying. His sobs had turned into small whimpers, and his eyes were closed. Clark suspected he was going to go to sleep soon.

“I talked to him,” he said. “He was screaming when I woke up. The mixture of Kryptonite and red sun is hurting him, probably more than it's hurting me.”

“Apparently you helped,” Diana said, smiling weakly. “He’s not screaming anymore.”

“Thank goodness,” Clark said. “I hope that means he’s not in as much distress.”

The heavy door swung open with a loud bang, and Jonathan began to cry again.

“Not for long, Kal-El,” Brainiac said, stepping into the room. Clark could see the electrified mace was back in his hand. “Your son has one more experiment to undergo.”

“DON’T TOUCH HIM!” Diana yelled. Clark almost looked taken aback and the bite in her voice. “If you hurt Superman and Batman’s son, I will kill you!”

“I do not think so,” Brainiac said. “The lamp mimics the natural red sunlight of Krypton, stripping Kal-El of his earthly powers. Who will let you out of your restraints, Princess Diana?”

“You will,” Clark said, interrupting Diana before she could continue the fight. “Because I’m going to surrender myself.”

Brainiac seemed unsure how to react.

“I will do whatever you want, Brainiac,” Clark said. “I will not fight. I will not try to escape; but only if you  _ let my son go _ .”

“Clark…” Diana started.

“ _ And Diana, _ ” Clark cut her off. “Give him to her, and let them leave. Then, I’m yours. I will repopulate your planet, serve you, whatever you require.”

“Clark, Bruce would…”

“Do we have a deal?” Clark interrupted again, glaring at Brainiac, who was considering the offer.

“I can run the final test on you,” Brainiac said. “I suppose it would actually be ideal to have an adult specimen for this particular experiment anyway.”

“ _ Do we have a deal,”  _ Clark repeated. 

“Yes, Kal-El,” Brainiac said. “On one condition.”

“What,” Clark snapped.

“Princess Diana,” Brainiac said. “You cannot fight me, or my accomplices. You must take the young Kryptonian and exit the building. You may not return to rescue Kal-El, and you may not involve Earth’s law enforcement.”

Brainiac stepped in front of Diana and snatched the lasso from her belt. He wrapped it around her waist and told her: “Repeat after me.”

The lasso glowed, compelling her to tell the truth. 

_ Bastard _ . Clark thought. He was using Diana’s lasso to force her into making a vow. Diana looked desperately at him, and Clark nodded. He saw the loophole, and only hoped that Diana did too.

Repeating his words, Diana told Brainiac she would not fight, would exit immediately, and would not return to make a rescue. When he was satisfied, Brainiac unlocked her cuffs and she fell to the floor. Immediately, she stood and crossed the room to a crying Jonathan.

She gently raised him off of the table and walked to Clark. Brainiac started to stop her, but she glared at him.

“I will not fight,” she said. “But I will allow this father to have a final moment with his son.”

Brainiac crossed his arms, but stepped back. Diana walked forward and lifted Jon, pressing him gently to Clark’s upper chest, so that Clark could rest their cheeks together. Tears were falling from his eyes as he smiled at his son.

“I love you, Jonathan,” he said. “Go back to your Daddy now, with Aunty Diana. She’ll keep you safe. I love you so much.”

“Enough,” Brainiac said. “Depart. Now.”

Diana had tears in her own eyes when she left the room, flashing Clark one final look. He watched her go and hung his body in defeat, tears streaming down his face. Brainiac saw him slouching, and smiled mischievously

“I’ll be back for you, Kal-El,” he told Clark. He turned around and left.

Clark straightened up again as soon as he left, blinking away the tears he had cried. Diana’s look had been enough to know for sure that she had seen the loophole.

  
All Clark had to do now, was wait.   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your comments are greatly appreciated. Thank you for stopping by!


	8. Safe and Sound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce arrives in Star City.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost done with this fic. Enjoy!

When Alfred, Bruce, and Martha touched down in Star City, it was early in the morning. They had been forced to land on the outskirts, given the size of the Batplane, so Alfred suggested that Bruce take the Batpod. They figured it was the fastest way to get to Kord, given the fact that the Batmobile would take longer to eject, and speed was their top priority.

Alfred and Martha stayed behind, with the promise that they could take the Batmobile if it was required. Alfred would be, as per usual, monitoring Bruce and speaking with him over the comm. That way, he and Martha would know everything that was going on and would be able to step in if necessary.

The trip across the city was relatively short, given the time of day and the speed that Bruce could go. There was very little traffic, and those vehicles that were out were easily by-passable on the bike. He found himself pulling up to Kord Industries within a few minutes. 

Bruce could see the hole in the fence where Clark had burned through the metal, and was about to run through himself when he realized that he could see waves of electric energy through the lenses of his cowl. Luthor had likely reactivated the security measures as soon as he had gotten away from Arthur and Victor; so Bruce stepped back and threw a batarang at the waves. 

As he suspected, it ricocheted off of the defense system, and landed on the ground at his feet. Bruce winced as he bent over to grab it. He was feeling generally  _ much _ better, but Jason Blood had been right when he said it wouldn’t feel totally normal. Not to mention, Bruce was still physically sore. The simple act of straddling the Batpod had been painful, but he was determined to push through the pain.

In fact, as Bruce swapped out his standard batarang for an electrified one and sent it hurdling back toward the fence, he realized he had never felt more determined in his life.

Maybe because the stakes had never been this high.

He watched as the batarang fizzled seemingly in mid air, before it exploded. Through his lenses, Bruce could see a disruption in the electric field, and took advantage of the seconds he had to dive through. 

Tucking and rolling wasn’t exactly easy in his state, but he did it anyway. When he had stumbled to his feet again, he turned around and watched as the security resealed itself, satisfied with his maneuver and turning his attention toward the building. He took off running, ignoring the ache in his abdomen. 

He turned his comm on and yelled for Victor.

“Where are you?” he said. “I’m here. I’m outside; how do I get to the vault?”

“We’re on the main floor,” Victor responded immediately. “Barry’s awake now, but he’s not at full power so he can’t phase, and Arthur…”

“Victor,” Bruce interrupted. “Just tell me how to get to you. We can help Barry once I’m there.”

Bruce destroyed the external lock on the building, then ran through the halls, following Victor’s directions as he tried to find the vault where they were being held. Finally, he reached it. 

“I can see the keypad that you destroyed,” he said, exasperation dripping from his voice. “I don’t know if I can work around that. The screen is in pieces!”

“You can,” Victor said. “The crack in the glass exposed the wiring, yes? That’s all I really did when I shattered the glass, was mess with the wiring.”

“Yes,” Bruce replied, drawing his gloved hands up, inserting his fingers into the system, and carefully cataloging the exposed mechanism. “I can see the wiring.”

“Okay, so it’s just like disarming a bomb then,” Victor said. “You gotta start with blue…”

“Yellow and black striped, red, then black,” Bruce finished, having already pulled the wires out. “I know how, I’ve done it many times before.”

Bruce could hear the system shutting down, a click, and the loud shifting of what sounded like gears as the heavy door unlocked and popped open. He swung it out completely, revealing Victor, a weakened but conscious Barry, and Arthur, who was sitting stiffly on the ground, and staring straight ahead with empty eyes.

“What happened?” Bruce said, stepping to Arthur’s side and kneeling down. He felt for a pulse and was relieved to see it was still there.

“His vitals are fine,” Victor said. “But it’s like he totally checked out mentally just over an hour ago. He can’t talk, can’t respond to questions-”

“It’s Brainiac’s powers,” Bruce said. “I thought you guys said you came across Luthor, not Brainiac.”

“We did,” Victor said. “He had a gun, though it didn’t shoot bullets. It was more like purple...sort of electricity, I guess. He hit Arthur in the shoulder.”

Bruce shifted and noticed a tear in Arthur’s suit where he had been hit. He peeled back the fabric and saw the welt and veins that now had spread up his neck and to the base of his skull.

“It’s a psionic blast,” Bruce said, prodding gently at the veins. “He was fine for a while, right? No immediate effects?”

“Yeah, when we got locked in here, he was fine. It was shortly after Barry woke up. We were all talking and then we turned around and he was like this.”

“It kicks in as it spreads then,” Bruce said. “It made its way up to his neck and into his brain. The closer the blast is to the skull, the faster the psionics kick in.” Bruce waved his hand in front of Arthur’s eyes. “Did you shine a light in his eyes?” When Victor nodded, Bruce asked: “Did his pupils dilate?”

“Yes,” Victor said. “Like I said, everything is normal except for this trance he seems to be in.”

“His brain needs to shut down,” Bruce said. “He needs to be rendered  _ actually _ unconscious, but safely. Alfred?”

He had switched on his comm as he stood. 

“Master Bruce, how may I be of assistance?”

“I need you to bring the Batmobile, after all,” he said. “Brainiac seems to have developed a bullet laced with his own psionic energy. Arthur is conscious, but in complete stasis.”

“Master Arthur requires a standard reset, I presume,” Alfred said. 

“Yes,” Bruce said. “And be ready for more, in case either Diana or Clark or, god help us,  _ both _ have been hit with the same thing. Bring Martha, if she’s willing to assist with injuries that would be very helpful.”

“Yes, sir,” Alfred said. He disconnected, presumably to ready the car and make his way over.

“Barry,” Bruce said. “I need you to run Arthur out to Alfred.”

“Bruce…” Victor started, but Barry interrupted him.

“I can do it,” Barry said. “But I’m not full capacity, so I can’t phase. I need you to disable the security.”

Bruce and Victor both nodded, reaching to help Arthur to his feet. Barry pulled Arthur’s arms around his shoulders, allowing most of his body weight to rest on his motionless feet. 

“Call me on the comm when it’s clear,” Barry said before taking off. Bruce and Victor ran three rooms down to the control room, and Victor made quick work of disabling the security. 

“You’re clear,” Victor said into the comm. “Wait for Alfred, and only come back if we tell you to, or if you’ve reached full capacity.”

“Got it,” Barry said. “Go find them.”

Bruce and Victor started down the hallway, Bruce’s body aching with every step. He hadn’t been aware the pain he was in was showing, but apparently Victor could tell. 

“How are you even here, Bats?” he asked solemnly. “You should be resting.”

“An old friend of mine,” Bruce said, wincing as he went. “Can do magic. I usually don’t rely on it, but it was special circumstances.”

“He healed you,” Victor said.

“Not exactly,” Bruce replied. “He closed my surgical wound so that I wouldn't bleed out. Internally, I’m not in the best shape, but I’m no longer at risk of dying if I make sudden movements.”

Before Victor could respond, his comm went off and they heard a desperate Diana on the other end.

“Victor?” she was saying. “Victor, where are you guys?”

“Diana?” Bruce asked, getting on before Victor could answer. “Victor’s with me, Barry and Arthur are outside with Alfred. Are you okay? Where’s Clark? Did you find Jon?”

“Slow down,” Victor said, laying a hand on Bruce’s shoulder. He shook it off.

“Brainiac...stabbed me with some purple electricity...or something,” she said. “I have Jonathan, but Brainiac has Clark! He gave himself up...in place of your son...Made me promise with....Lasso of Hestia...not to come back...but you...”

Bruce tried not to cry, both with relief and with fear. Jon was safe, but Clark was not; and of  _ fucking _ course Clark had sacrificed himself. "We can go, yes, Diana, and we will."

“I feel weak...” Diana said. “Something is wrong…Brainiac…”

“Where are you, Diana?” Bruce said, desperately. “How do we get to you?”

“Basement…corridor...” Diana said, and she went silent.

Bruce growled in frustration, not at Diana, but at the fact that this maniacal robot had managed to develop tech that could render an  _ Amazon _ incapacitated.

“He got her with it too,” he said. “She’s going to go into stasis soon, if she hasn’t already. If she has Jon, we have to get to her before Brainiac, Luthor, or Mercy do.”

He took off, Victor close on his heels, and found the closest set of stairs. It led them down several flights until finally they emerged into a more dismal looking corridor. 

Not thirty feet from the staircase, Bruce could see Diana laying on the floor, the same vacant look as Arthur on her face. Victor ran immediately to her, pressing his ear to her chest and listening for her vitals.

Bruce would have gone to her side immediately as well, but he was  _ incredibly _ distracted by a small pale and black clad bundle laying on the floor a few feet from her, screaming it’s lungs out.

Bruce tore off his gloves as he ran to his infant son, throwing them haphazardly on the floor and sliding to his knees. 

“Jonathan!” he growled, sliding his hands carefully under Jon’s neck and back and lifting him to his chest. Pressed against the Kevlar, his son still cried, the modulator of the Batsuit less familiar to him than the sound of his father’s voice without it. Victor stood from Diana’s side and walked to Bruce, who didn’t protest as his cowl was pulled from his head. 

Jonathan’s eyes were barely open, but the sight of his father’s face coupled with Bruce’s tearful mutterings of how much he loved him seemed to calm him significantly.

“Victor,” Bruce cried. “Victor, can you unclip my cape?”

Heavy duty clasps on his shoulders clicked, separating the dark material from his armor. Victor passed the fabric to him, and he gently swaddled it around his baby. The cape was softer than the Kevlar, and Bruce was sure it smelled more like him than his suit did. He pressed Jonathan to the crook of his neck, peppering his cheeks with light kisses and salty tears. 

“Thank god, thank god,” Bruce was repeating. “Oh my god, Jonathan. Baby boy, I’ve got you. I’ve got you now.”

Behind him, Bruce could hear Victor calling Alfred on the comm and informing him that Jonathan was safe and in Bruce’s arms. He also mentioned that Diana was down, same as Arthur. 

Seconds later, Barry arrived. He looked winded, but more energized than he had before.

“Alfred gave me a snack,” he said. “Low blood sugar. I’m getting better. I’ll take Diana out.”

“Then come back for Jon,” Bruce said, quietly, his son still pressed firmly to his neck. He now had John’s hand wrapped around one of his fingers. “Come back and take him from me. Alfred and Martha can take care of him. He needs to be out of this building and as far away from that  _ bastard  _ and his fucking Kryptonite as possible right now.”

“Bruce, Barry and I can go after Clark,” Victor said, watching tears cascading down Bruce’s cheeks. “You can stay with your son.”

“No,” Bruce said. “I can’t, because the other most important person in my life is in danger now too. And Jon is weak… I can feel it in his grasp and see it in his eyes. He needs sunlight, and it should be rising soon.”

Barry and Victor shot him sad and sympathetic looks. Both of them pulled Diana up and settled her on Barry’s shoulders as they had Arthur. He took off with her, and too soon for Bruce’s liking, came back for Jonathan. He had a small blue blanket and black cap in his hand.

“Alfred said you need your cape,” Barry said, handing Bruce the items. “It’s bulletproof, right? It might stop  _ you _ from getting hit with those god awful blasts.”

Bruce nodded and unwrapped Jonathan from the cape, speaking lowly and soothingly into his baby’s ear as he did so. He pulled the cap gently over his head, and secured him in the blue blanket. Then he rose to his feet and approached Barry.

“You press him  _ tight _ to your chest,” he said. “Firmly, but gently. He’s small and he’s fragile, despite the fact that he’s  _ Clark _ ’s. He’s weak and scared, and…”

“Bruce,” Victor said.

Bruce took a shaky breath, and carefully passed his son to his younger teammate. He watched as Barry did as he had instructed, and took off.

Bruce knelt and replaced his gloves. He reattached his cape and roughly pulled the cowl over his face. Barry was back by the time he was redressed, and the three of them shared a fierce look before setting off down the hall.

“Diana came from this direction, which means that Brainiac and Clark are likely down here,” Bruce growled, the modulator back in position and masking his real voice. “Let’s make quick work of this. Do you know the plan?”

“The plan?” Barry asked. “Since when have we had a plan?”

Before Bruce could respond, Luthor and Mercy emerged from a door at the end of the corridor. Batman growled under his breath and stepped back with one foot, a hand on his belt and one held defensively in the air. Victor and Barry assumed similar positions as Bruce snarled, his brow furrowed in fury and determination:

“Get in. Kick ass. Get Clark. Get out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has commented and left kudos. It means a lot to me. I hope you enjoyed! Thanks for stopping by!


	9. Defeat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Batman, Cyborg, and Flash take on Brainiac; but do they win?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is short, but I promise the next will be long and fluffy and heartwarming as fuck.
> 
> Thank you again for all of your support. I'm so glad to know that you are enjoying reading this series, and I hope that I can do the ending justice. I'm thinking I'll probably end up adding another story to this, one that's just essentially a book of one shots with snapshots into Bruce and Clark's domestic life with Jon. If people would read it. We'll see.

**“Where is he?!”** Bruce yelled angrily, glowering at the two brainwashed henchmen in front of him. Neither of them seemed capable of verbal communication, but both briefly turned their attention toward the door behind them, as if giving him an answer anyway. Then they both stepped forward and raised their weapons without a word.

Shots were being fired before any of the involved parties really had a chance to process the situation. Bruce skillfully ducked, jumped, and dove, narrowly avoiding blasts of purple psionic energy as he made his way toward the door. Barry, though not at full speed, proved very helpful in several instances, pushing Bruce to safety once, and Victor twice. 

Without knowing what he was doing, really, Victor’s metallic arm shifted into a sort of weapon of its own. When he fired, a sickening blue ball of light and energy was expelled. It melted a hole in the wall behind Luthor’s head, spreading and eating its way through the thick concrete.

“What the hell was that?” Barry squeaked, looking terrified at the power that Victor had just demonstrated. 

“No idea,” Victor called back, sending a few violent punches Mercy’s way. “But I sure as hell can’t use it on them, or they’ll die!”

Bruce was almost to the door when he heard the commotion and turned around. He glanced at the hole, observing the shifting, blue, acid-like substance as it moved, as if it was alive and devouring a meal. He recognized the color, the energy it radiated, and the sound it was making as it destroyed. It looked, sounded, and felt like what was given off by a  _ Boom Tube _ .

“Cyborg!” Bruce yelled over the gunfire. “However you created that blast...it’s Apokoliptan!”

“My body was born of the Mother Boxes!” Victor called back. “I think it’s automatically harnessing their energy! Barry and I have got this, you go find Superman!”

Bruce took one last look at his teammates, and as he did, he noticed a  _ tiny _ silver chip that appeared to be attached behind Luthor’s ear. He could only assume it was something to do with Brainiac’s nanites, and called to draw Barry’s attention to it. He hoped that it would be as easy as pulling off the nano-chips to stop them; but he didn’t want to wait around to find out.

He turned on his heel and walked into the room where Brainiac was awaiting his arrival.

Or so he thought.

When he first entered, he couldn’t see anyone. There were lab benches all around the edges of the room, cluttered with scattered items that appeared to be half-finished or attempted projects. On one particular bench, Bruce could see what appeared to be a torch. 

Brainiac was into welding, apparently.

Bruce stepped forward cautiously, one hand secured on the tip of a batarang in case he needed to rapid fire attack. He tried to keep his footsteps light, in case Brainiac was nearby and listening. He wished desperately that he had Clark’s sense of hearing at this point, so that he could isolate his husband’s heartbeat. 

There was a suspiciously large and thick metal door on the other side of the room, and Bruce had a growing hunch that it was where he would find Clark. He tried to make his way toward the door, but was very abruptly halted when Brainiac  _ materialized _ in front of him.

He said nothing, but simply swung a metal rod tipped with bright purple electricity toward Bruce, but fortunately, Batman’s reflexes were still in good shape. 

He ducked to avoid the swing, then gripped Brainiac’s forearm in his own and  _ heaved _ , flipping the alien over his shoulder and discarding his body behind him. He swung around and  _ stomped _ as hard as he could directly onto Brainiac’s face, It cracked one of the glowing circles on his forehead, but otherwise seemed to do very little damage.

Bruce felt a hand wrap around the ankle of his boot, and was abruptly thrown across the room. He landed on a lab bench on his back, the searing pain of what was surely a crack in his upper tailbone shooting through his nerves and eliciting a desperate gasp for air. 

Brainiac approached his body, and attempted to swing at him again with the psionic mace, but Bruce was once again faster, rolling out of the way and sending a batarang flying at the alien’s chest.

To his satisfaction, the blade of his signature weapon dug deep into Brainiac’s core, shredding several now visible wires and lodging itself somewhere inside him. Brainiac roared in fury, but was seemingly otherwise unaffected by the attack.

“You think your stupid Earthly weapons can destroy me, Batman?” Brainiac taunted as he pulled the black metal from his chest and folded it in two. “I’m much too powerful for that. I isolated a portion of my conscience and fused it into my mace. Now I am able to more directly injure my opponents.”

Batman growled as he lunged forward again, ignoring the pain now blanketing his entire abdomen. He pictured Jon’s face as he swung, landing several solid punches that were underscored by the cracking and bending of Brainiac’s outer shell, causing no visible pain, but intense surges in the villain’s frustration.

Bruce could hear triumphant yelling from just outside the room, and in a lapse of judgement fueled by adrenaline and innate concern for his teammates, he found himself pinned aggressively against the wall. An impossibly strong hand was wrapped around his throat, and Brainiac was taunting him again.

“You just gave birth, Batman, not two days ago,” Brainiac said. “It was highly improbable that you would be well enough to attempt to rescue Kal-El.”

Bruce wanted to say something, but the grip on his airway prevented words from forming.

“Even with the use of magic, your body cannot be completely healed,” Brainiac continued. Then, without warning, he dug his fist into Bruce’s lower abdomen, just below his surgical scar. Bruce instinctually screamed in pain, an uncomfortable and frankly  _ incorrect _ sensation flooding his abdomen.

Before Brainiac could do any further damage, however, Barry came flying into the room and knocked the villain off of his feet, sending him flying across the room. Victor was right behind him, moving immediately to Bruce’s now collapsed form. Bruce only had time to point before Victor whipped around and attacked a rapidly approaching Brainiac. As they began to fight, Bruce clicked a button on his earpiece.

“He’s a computer,” Bruce muttered into the comm, wincing as Victor drove Brainiac’s back into the wall. “He processes information rapidly and therefore efficiently, but even he would have his limits. If we destroy the mace, the piece of his conscience he’s trapped inside will be vulnerable. If Victor were to hit that piece with a blast of Apokaliptan energy…”

“He’d overload,” Victor finished.

“But how do we destroy the mace?” Barry yelled, rebounding himself off of the wall and aiming his foot to Brainiac’s chest. Bruce had managed to pull himself to his feet now, but he could tell that something was terribly wrong inside of him.

“We overpower it too,” Bruce huffed, trying to hide the hiss of pain in his voice. Brainiac was taking useless swings at Barry’s blurred form. “I have an electrified batarang. I used it to cause a lapse in Brainiac’s security system out front. If I were to hit the tip of the mace at the same time Barry tapped it at high speed, we could cause enough of an energy surge to destroy the mace, thereby exposing Brainiac’s weakness.”

“And if I come in and hit it with the blue light,” Victor continued.”The Apokaliptan material will destroy it, mix with the electricity…”

“...and cause a blast that will overload Brainiac’s senses,” Barry finished, now running laps around Brainiac. “This would work.”

“I’ll get him to the center of the room,” Bruce panted, laying a hand over his scar. “Barry, leave him. Run up the hall and get as much distance as you need. We’ll count down over the comm. It’s just like the mother box from before.”

“Got it!” Barry yelled. A flash of light and he was gone.

“Do your worst, asshole,” Bruce yelled, his lip curling into a snarl. His abdomen and back were really burning at this point, but not as brightly as the anger in his chest. He felt unstoppable despite the intense pain. Based on the timing of Brainiac’s materialization, he was certain that his husband was on the other side of the thick steel door across the room. Only an egotistical and unstable alien stood between them, and the team had fought and defeated  _ many  _ of those before.

Brainiac gripped the psionic mace in his right hand and lunged, sending purple sparks flying across the room. Bruce tried to dive out of the way, but the tip of the mace scratched and burned just above his right hip. He rolled to his feet almost immediately, yelling loudly in pain and determination as he ripped another batarang from his belt and sent it flying, this time directly at the back of Brainiac’s head. It was a miracle it hit its target; white blurs had begun to frame Bruce’s vision, the pain of both of Brainiac’s attacks overwhelming his own senses. As it lodged, the alien stumbled and stepped directly into the middle of the room, and Bruce looked to Victor.

“Three,” Victor said into the comm, looking back at Bruce and nodding. “Two.” Brainiac pulled the normal batarang out of his head at the same moment that Bruce’s hands grasped the electrical one. “One.”

Bruce swiftly aimed and released the weapon.

Time seemed to move in slow motion. Barry came charging into the room mere milliseconds after the batarang had left his own palm, and he could sense the beam of blue energy coming from behind him as well. 

Brainiac was still in the center of the room, exactly where Bruce had maneuvered him, staring around with wide eyes as three different and immense sources of power plummeted towards him. 

The tip of the electrified batarang grazed the flashing purple glow of the psionic mace, and was followed instantly by Victor’s burst of energy from the Source. The blur that was Barry darted past Brainiac and slammed into the wall, but not before tapping the tip of the batarang with his electrified finger.

Combined, the power sources did exactly what they had hoped.

The entire energy mace was electrified; overloaded with electrical energy. The blast that was created by Barry and Bruce’s combined power essentially incinerated the weapon, thereby releasing the physical manifestation of the part of Brainiac’s conscience that had been the source of its power. 

The slight delay between Barry and Victor’s attacks allowed  _ just _ enough time for his conscience to be exposed before being promptly hit with a massive amount of energy.

Brainiac’s entire body shook, his eyes rolling back as waves of energy crashed through his body and infiltrated his mind. The sensory overload was enough to overwhelm him, seemingly frying his mainframe and destroying his processing ability. The three white lights on his forehead flickered before fading to dark. His knees buckled, and he fell to the floor.

Brainiac was defeated.

Bruce stumbled toward the door, followed closely by Victor who hacked into the locking mechanism and opened it. He was so close; he wanted nothing more than to step through and get to his husband.

He was semi-aware of the trickle of liquid on the back of his legs as he took another step, reaching for his thigh as if to soothe an itch. Barry and Victor both saw his collapse coming. The pain in his lower body was incredible, and as he returned his hand to his line of sight, he saw it was covered in deep crimson.

The room before him glowed green, and Batman lost consciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again!


	10. Happy Endings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's fluffy and happy and I hope you like it.

Clark could feel the weight of his eyelids as he tried desperately to force them open.

He could see the brightness behind them, a yellow glow that was radiating heat onto his body. The sunlamps must have been placed above him to help him recover from his injuries, which meant that he was in the cave. That was the only place Bruce had been able to install them thus far.

Clark resolved to keep his eyes closed temporarily, and rather focused his hearing on the room to see what he could observe around him. Diana and Arthur were chatting somewhere fairly close by; their conversation low murmurs that Clark could not completely isolate. A few words struck him, though, including  _ Brainiac, Mace, Batman,  _ and  **_dead_ ** **.**

Clark’s heart involuntarily skipped a beat, and through his clouded mind he forced his body to react. He sat up and dragged his eyes open, wincing at the brightness in the room. Once he had adjusted, he scanned his surroundings and saw that he was alone in a healing chamber. Through a glass panel on one wall he could see that Diana and Arthur were talking in the chamber next to him, standing over a small cot that housed a sleeping Jonathan. Sunlamps were also trained on his son’s fragile body, and watching the gentle rise and fall of his chest was enough to coax Clark out of bed.

He staggered toward the door, a subtle ache settling in his gut. He was aware that he was wearing nothing but a pair of boxers, but couldn’t bring himself to care as he stepped into the other room.

Diana and Arthur stepped back from the cot immediately when they heard the door behind them open. Clark glanced at the cot and wanted desperately to wrap his baby boy in his arms, but he knew that he couldn’t until he was certain his husband was alive.

“Bruce?” Clark asked, his voice laden with worry and fatigue. “How is Bruce?”

Diana smiled gently.

“He’s healing, Superman,” she said. “Brainiac managed to get a hit on almost all of us.”

She gestured to her side. Clark now noticed the edges of thick white bandages visible beneath the dropped armhole of her tank top. He glanced at Arthur and saw that his shoulder was covered as well. 

“Bruce is just the only one who isn’t at least somewhat invulnerable,” she continued. “Alfred has him over in the lab. He wanted to keep him under until you were awake, because he knew that Bruce would come to your side as soon as he could, even if it jeopardized his own health.”

“Why isn’t Bruce still at the hospital? You mean he came to Kord?” Clark felt a flash of anger and fear course through his chest.

“Victor called him, I guess,” Arthur shrugged. “When you and princess here went radio silent. He was angry and scared, so of course he came. Your mom and Alfred came too. You would have done the same thing.”   
  


Clark scowled. 

“He had just had a baby, then he went into surgery almost immediately after, and somehow he thinks he’s fit to fly across the country and fight an alien robot? I had it handled. Diana had Jon out of the building long before he got there!”

“That’s not true, Clark,” Diana said, frowning. “I collapsed in the hallway shortly after Bruce arrived. The effects of the mace hit me very quickly. I barely had time to lay Jonathan down before I lost consciousness.”

Clark felt horrified. He hadn’t realized the extent of the situation.

“So if Bruce hadn’t shown up…”

“Jonathan would have just been taken back into Brainiac’s custody anyway,” Arthur finished. “Was it stupid? Yes. Was it ultimately necessary? Also yes.”

Clark nodded and thought for a few moments.

“I heard you say something about Brainiac, and the word  _ dead _ . What happened? Are Barry and Victor okay too?” He asked, finally.

Arthur snorted.

“Brainiac’s the dead one,” he said. “Barry and Vic filled us in on what happened before Bruce collapsed. It was them who brought you out. Diana and I were unconscious. Bruce beat the shit out of him.”

By this point, Clark had stepped over to the cot where Jonathan was sleeping, and was resting a hand on his son’s chest.

“Brainiac isn’t dead,” Clark said. “He never is.”

“We have his body, Clark,” Diana said, gently, as if trying to coax Clark into believing them. Clark inhaled slowly and deeply, trying not to let his emotions corrupt his sense of calm. 

“You don’t understand,” he said, quietly. “Brainiac _does not_ _die_. His body does, yes, but it’s just a shell. He’s a technological conscience, a living computer if you will. If there was a single piece of functioning technology in that room, he latched onto it the moment his body was shut down.”

He rubbed his forehead with his free hand, and stared down at Jonathan. He couldn’t help the tears that welled up in his eyes.

“He isn’t dead. This was nothing more to him than an inconvenient setback.”

“Your family is safe,” Diana said, stepping forward and resting her hand on his shoulder. Clark nodded and moved his hand, allowing Jon to wrap his fingers around one of his own. The grip, though tiny, was iron, and Clark chuckled through his tears.

“I know,” he said. “And I’m grateful. I’m sorry both of you were injured in the process.”

“Look at him,” Arthur chuckled. “We’ll heal. He’s fucking irreplacable.”

Clark smiled just as Jonathan's mouth opened in a wide yawn. He kicked his feet in a staccato rhythm, the motions clumsy and adorable. Clark pulled his hand away to let his son move freely, but in the absence of contact, the yawn turned quickly into a grimace and then into a cry.

“Maybe he doesn’t like swearing,” Diana chuckled, hitting Arthur playfully on the chest. “You’ve gone and made him cry.”

Arthur put his hands up in defense.

“This kid’s mom is  _ Batman _ , I think he’ll learn to handle a few swears here and there.”

Clark chuckled, then slid one hand under Jonathan’s bum and one under his neck, carefully lifted him to his chest, just as he had in the hospital.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered. “I’ve got you baby boy.”

“He’s probably hungry, actually, on top of missing contact with you and Bruce,” Diana said. “I don’t know when Martha came down last today, but Arthur and I have been here a while so I would guess it’s been a few hours now.”

“Today? Wait, how long have Bruce and I been out?”

“Three days,” Arthur said. “We were wondering when the hell you were going to wake up. You got the worst of the blows though, thanks to Princess over here, so Alfred kinda figured you would take the longest.”

Clark glared at Arthur and made to say something, but Diana raised a hand. 

“I know, Superman,” she said. “And don’t worry. Your mother has been giving Jonathan excellent care, although, like I said, it seems he knows that the two of you are not around. Pretty much every minute he’s awake in which he is not eating, he’s screaming at the top of his lungs.”

She gestured to the baby in Clark’s arms, who was still visibly displeased but no longer crying. His face was scrunched up, but his hand was wrapped around his Dad’s finger again, which seemed to provide him with some sort of comfort. Small whimpers were escaping his lips, and Clark was certain the sound would make him melt.

“Does he need to stay under the sun lamp?” Clark asked. “I’d like to take him up to see Bruce, if I can.”

Arthur nodded.

“Alfred said he’s fine to leave, the lamps were just precautionary. Martha has taken him around the house a few times, but I’m not sure she’s ever gone to Bruce.”

They slowly made their way up to the laboratory level of the cave. Martha and Alfred were both sitting at a small table in the corner of the room, talking quietly and sipping tea. Clark could see Barry and Victor examining some of Batman’s new tech in awe, and decided it was best to let them have their fun. He just wouldn’t tell Bruce; especially given that what they were most intrigued by had been the subject of Bruce’s scrutiny all throughout his pregnancy-driven inactivity.

Martha stood as soon as she saw that they had entered the room, rushing over to Clark with Alfred tailing behind her. She wrapped her arm around Clark, mindful of Jonathan, and pressed several kisses to his cheek.

“Are you okay, Clark?” She asked, her brow furrowed in worry.

“Yeah, Ma,” he replied, smiling. “I’m tired and it still hurts a little, but I’m alright. Thank you for taking care of Jon, and of Bruce.”

He looked at Alfred as he said it as well. The butler nodded and smiled gently. 

“Of course, Master Clark,” he said. “I removed the pentobarbital intravenous earlier this morning. Master Bruce’s wounds have improved significantly. He is likely to wake up very shortly, and will be eager to see the pair of you.”

Martha left the room, returning a few minutes later with a bottle. She passed it to Clark and, while Alfred walked toward a room off the side of the lab, showed him how to feed his son.

Diana had been right. Jonathan happily gulped down the formula, his eyes now blown wide and staring up at Clark. They were blue as ever, and Martha couldn’t help but comment again on how much they looked like Clark’s.

Clark knew better though; he had seen pictures of an infant Bruce and knew that even now, at only four days old, their son was the spitting image of his husband. Even if his eyes were slightly Kryptonian.

“He’s beautiful, Clark,” Martha said, smiling softly as Jonathan suckled at the bottle. “You and Bruce did so well.”

Clark’s own smile faded, and he sighed.

“Did we, Ma?” he asked. “I mean, he’s amazing; I knew after a single glance at him that I would happily give my life for him...but what’s the cost of his being  _ our _ son? He wasn’t even in the world for a  _ day _ before something bad happened to him, strictly because Bruce and I are who we are. How can we subject him to that? What were we thinking, having him?”

“Stop,” Martha interrupted, resting a hand on her son’s shoulder. “You can’t do that to yourself, Clark.  _ Every _ new parent, superhero or not, questions what they’re doing. Yes, that Brainy-whatever robot thing was a special case, that’s for sure, but he’s safe now. If Jonathan is put in harm’s way because of what you do for the world, then you’ll get him back. You’ll figure it out, just like you did this time.”

“But what if we can’t?” Clark asked.

Martha squeezed his shoulder.

“You  _ will _ , Clark. You always have. What you can do...what Bruce can do...you’re both incredible. I have no doubt that this beautiful baby boy will be protected by his fathers, and  _ loved-- _ he will be  _ so _ loved--no matter what. If you never forgive yourself when something goes wrong, you’ll never let Jonathan  _ live _ . A certain amount of protection is healthy, but you also have to remember that he’s  _ your son _ , which means that someday, he’ll likely want to don a garish costume and cape and save the world.”

“You think my costume is garish?” Clark chuckled. Martha’s eyes were shining. She didn’t respond to Clark’s question, turning her attention back to Jonathan. 

“And don’t forget, in this particular incident, Jonathan was under the care of the hospital staff more than he was under your care. I’m not usually one to point fingers, but I’m confident that that Mercy woman would have had a much harder time getting her hands on Jon if either you or Bruce was present. Had both of you been there? I am certain the task would have been entirely impossible.”

Clark nodded and watched as the last of the formula was drained from the bottle. Jonathan’s eyes were still wide, staring up at him as if he was seeing him for the first time. He smiled, cooing at his son and taking the bottle away. 

Martha showed him how to properly burp him, then the two of them made their way over to the room where Bruce was lying.

Clark could see the bandaid where the IV had been in Bruce’s hand. He could also see the white wrappings that were indicative of a mace-inflicted wound, and winced as he imagined how much pain his husband must have been in.

Martha put her hand on Clark’s shoulder again, squeezed gently, then left the room. Clark had Jon cradled delicately in his arms, and could see that he was nearly asleep. He tried not to shift him too much as he lowered into a chair near Bruce. 

He focused on Jonathan, then, listening to the soft wheeze of his inhales and exhales and to the steady beating of his little heart. He marveled at the fragile body in his hands, examining once again his hands and feet, his button nose, and his little eyelashes. He pressed gentle kisses to Jon’s forehead, cooing at him some more and relishing in the fact that he was all his and Bruce’s now. There was no immediate threat to his family.

After about ten minutes, Jon stirred, clearly uncomfortable in the position Clark had him in. He let out a soft whine, flopping his arms and kicking his legs. Clark smiled and tried to adjust, but decided that it was probably better for his son to actually lie down somewhere. 

He glanced around and, upon realizing that there really weren’t any other options, decided to lay Jon sprawled out across Bruce’s bare chest. His husband was still asleep, so he gently set Jonathan down, mindful of the wound above Bruce’s hip. 

Clark felt a rush of fondness when Jonathan’s body visibly relaxed, his tiny arms raised level with his head and his cheek pressed flush against Bruce’s bare skin. Clark kept a hand on Jon’s back, steadying him against the gentle slope of Bruce’s body. When he was certain that he wasn’t going to slip down, he let go, allowing his family to sleep peacefully together.

He pulled the chair closer to Bruce’s bed, then sat in it, leaning back and resting his head against the cool fabric. He watched the rise and fall of Bruce’s chest, listened to both of their heartbeats and the rush of their breaths. It was like music to his ears, to hear his son and husband safe and relaxed. It didn’t take long for him to fall asleep as well.

\----

“Why do you smell so good, baby boy? Hmm? I’m so glad you’re okay now. Shh, shh. Your Dad is still sleeping, yeah? He worked very hard to come find you, and he loves you so much he was going to sacrifice himself for you. Silly Dad, though, he should have known I'd find you both. I love you both too much to give up that easily. Oh my god you smell so good.”

Clark smiled and groaned internally at Bruce’s murmurings as he dragged his eyes open again. Bruce was sitting upright in bed now, Jonathan still pressed to his chest with his head just below Bruce’s chin. 

His husband's eyes were shining, staring straight ahead and glassed over with what appeared to be unshed tears. It took him a moment to realize that Clark was awake, but visibly brightened when he did.

"Clark…" Bruce said, a half-whisper. Keeping one arm supporting Jon's body, Bruce reached out with his other hand. Clark leaned forward, pressing his own cheek into the warmth of his husband's palm and closing his eyes.

"Bruce…" he said back, tears suddenly flooding his own eyes and spilling gently from beneath his lids. 

"Don't cry," Bruce said. "I'm still hormonal and I have the most adorable fucking child sleeping tenderly on my chest. If you cry I'm going to goddamn lose it."

"I can't, Bruce," Clark sobbed. This was more normal for them-- Clark emotional and Bruce perfectly stoic, or at least trying to be. "I woke up in one of the chambers, and I couldn't hear much. I think there's still some Kryptonite in my system, cause I was sore and scared. And then I heard Diana say something but I didn't catch all of it and I thought you had died. And… I…"

"Shhh, Clark," Bruce murmured, caressing the younger man's cheek with his thumb. "We're home, we're okay."

"But you…" Clark wiped at his eyes and cleared his throat, his tone shifting to very serious. "I have a bone to pick with you." 

"I changed my mind, keep crying," Bruce chuckled, looking into Clark's fierce gaze. "Let me guess, what was I thinki-"

"What the hell were you thinking?" Clark said, shamelessly cutting him off. "You gave birth, what, 4 days ago now? It had barely been 24 hours! You had been hemorrhaging, and you  _ still _ came after us!"

"And if I hadn't?" Bruce said, defensively. He could tell Clark wasn't truly angry, moreso exasperated, but he couldn't help it. "You threw yourself at Brainiac without so much as a fight! How is that any different?"

"My family was in danger, and if it  _ ever _ comes down to my life versus yours or Jon's, the decision will be just as easy."

"Mine will be too," Bruce said, turning to Jon. "I felt  _ wrong _ knowing he was gone. And I had faith in you, that’s the only reason I didn’t go in the first place. I believed you would get him back, but then when Victor called and said you weren't answering...well I told Alfred and Leslie that I'd be damned if I was going to sit around and let anything happen to you. One call to Jason Blood and I…"

"You used  _ magic? _ " Clark said, looking taken aback. 

"Alfred suggested it actually," Bruce kind of shrugged. "It didn't heal the internal damage, but my incision is sealed completely. It gave me a chance, and I'd do it again."

Clark sat in silence for a second, then put his hand to his forehead. 

"I'm not saying I agree with what you did," he said. "But I'm glad to know you at least thought it through enough that you wouldn’t  _ bleed out _ , for Rao’s sake.”

"I will never  _ not _ come to save you," Bruce said. "I'm no kryptonian, I'm not a metahuman, and I am aware that I'm not invulnerable, but  _ I am your husband.  _ I promised to love you til' death do us part…and I don't plan on parting with you anytime soon."

Clark smiled gently and scooted closer to the bed, resting one hand over Bruce’s on Jon’s back, and leaning his forehead against his husband’s. They stayed like that for a while, peacefully resting in each other’s company and basking in the lack of danger.

Suddenly Jonathan stirred, his little legs kicking awkwardly again as he yawned and squeaked over at Clark. His eyes opened slightly, heavy with fatigue but intent on looking at his fathers.

“Look at him, Clark,” Bruce said, smiling fondly down at the baby on his chest. “I can’t believe he’s ours.”

“I can,” Clark said. “He looks exactly like you did when you were a baby. Alfred and Ma agree, except for the eyes.”

“Yeah, they’re definitely yours. I wish all of him was yours.”

“He’s perfect,” Clark said. “I wouldn’t change a thing about him.”

There was a soft knock on the door, and Alfred pushed the door open gently.

“I’m sorry Master Bruce, Master Clark,” he said. “But we could hear that you were both awake, and a certain Amazonian Princess is desperate to be properly introduced to young sir.”

Bruce chuckled, and looked up at Clark who nodded.

“Let them in Alfred,” he smiled. “Let them all in. Might as well introduce them all at once.”

Alfred nodded and disappeared behind the door again. He returned moments later, followed by the rest of the Justice League, plus Martha. They made their way in, spreading out around the bed.

Clark stood and offered his chair to Diana. She smiled and sat, and Bruce carefully raised Jonathan off of his chest and laid him gently in her arms. He made a noise of protest at the lack of contact with Bruce, but soon settled into Diana’s tender grasp.

“Amazons don’t have children,” Diana murmured. Her facial expression, though soft, was full of pain. “I will never hold a child that is my own, and now I see that there is nothing more magical.”

“You can hold ours anytime,” Clark said, resting a hand on her shoulder. “He seems to be fairly comfortable with you.”

She rocked him for several minutes while the rest of the league chatted, then decided it was time to give someone else a turn. Before he could protest, Clark lifted Jon out of Diana’s hold and thrust him toward Barry. 

“Uhh,” he mumbled. “What do I do?” 

“You hold him,” Bruce laughed. “And you look at him and appreciate how goddamn perfect he is.”

Everyone chuckled. Arthur was next, and had apparently had previous experience with children. He rocked Jonathan effortlessly, cooed at him, and pulled funny faces at him. Arthur swore that Jon had smiled at him, but Bruce--the caring father and comrade he was--insisted that he was probably just passing gas.

Victor refused to hold him, still shaken by the unexpected and uncontrollable actions of his cybernetic features during the fight. Clark was unconcerned, but having seen the mysterious blue matter that had corroded metal and contributed to Brainiac’s destruction, Bruce felt that Victor’s concerns were justified.

Martha still insisted on ‘meeting’ Jonathan again, though she had been primarily responsible for his life the past four days. Everyone smiled as she interacted with her grandson, and Alfred played along.

The team chatted about Clark and Bruce’s history, complained that they had not been invited to their wedding, and discussed Jonathan’s potential future as a superhero. After just over an hour, Bruce and Jon simultaneously let out a dramatically large yawn, and Alfred promptly decided to usher everyone out of the room to allow the new family to rest together.

Jon was asleep long before Clark and Bruce, however, and the pair took this opportunity to gaze fondly at their son once again.

“I love him so much already,” Bruce said as a small hand squeezed his finger. 

“I do too,” Clark said. “I didn’t even think it was possible to love something as much as I love him.”

“What about me?” Bruce said, playfully, yawning again. “Don’t you love me that much too?”

Clark scoffed and wrapped his hand around Bruce’s. He leaned against his shoulder and closed his eyes.

“I do, Bruce,” he said. “I love you so so much.”

He was met with no reply, but rather, deep steady breaths that indicated his husband was asleep. Before he too let himself slip under, Clark honed in as best as he could on the sound that would now be the biggest comfort to him.

Two heartbeats, calm and steady, and most importantly, safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it! Thank you for all of your support. I'm sorry it took so long. I had surgery, and I ended up having to stay in the hospital so my recovery was a bit more lengthy than I had hoped. I hope it's not too late, and I hope you enjoyed. 
> 
> Thanks again!
> 
> -Laynee


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